


Galactic Readiness

by DruCarter_N7



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Fluff, Humor, Mass Effect Multiplayer, Multi, Reapers, Rivalry, Romance, Slow Build, gratuitous cameo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9430610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruCarter_N7/pseuds/DruCarter_N7
Summary: Major Wren Blackshaw has been a part of the Alliance her entire career, but when Admiral Hackett offers her a spot on a multi-racial team to help take the fight to the Reapers, she takes the chance. Wren learns to overcome her prejudices she has of the other races, and even finds camaraderie among her team members in the midst of war, perhaps something more than friendship with the turian aboard. But even love can have a hard time overpowering fear and old memories.(A story about learning to trust and falling in love. Inspired by the characters of Mass Effect 3: Multiplayer. Spans the Reaper War in ME3. Each of the characters I chose are playable in ME. I know when you join a team in multiplayer, there's only four players, however I chose to make this a six person team, since there are six classes. Includes romance, sarcasm, eventual smut, fighting, and of course, a gratuitous cameo. Thanks in advance to anyone reading, I hope you enjoy it!)*currently in the process of re-editing, thanks for being patient*





	1. Oats In The Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my chapters are named after songs that helped me write/inspire said chapter. I'll add a link to each song and if you're an avid music lover, such as myself, I hope the songs will help you visualize/give depth to this story that I've written. 
> 
> Anyways, here's Oats In The Water by Ben Howard.  
> https://youtu.be/DaH4W1rY9us

The city was burning. Ash and soot hung in the air and made it impossible to breathe. Rubble from the destruction the Reapers had caused filled the streets. They had turned the once beautiful buildings into nothing but tombs for the people who'd been in them when they fell. Dead squad-mates lay strewn across the ground in ragged heaps. The number of people still alive in her unit was dwindling and she knew it was unlikely that backup was coming to save them.

It was unlikely that there was any back up left at all.

Wren's lungs felt like they were on fire. Her legs burned and threatened to give out as she ran towards cover. Gunfire rang out through the air but so did the unrelenting screams of the two banshees closing in on her unit. 

This was not good. In fact, this was the exact opposite of good. Substandard. Inadequate. Disagreeable, even. Those were all adjectives she'd use to describe this situation.

Slamming herself against a slab of uneven concrete, she somehow managed to not let her legs buckle underneath her as she took cover. Orders were being shouted through her comm but she couldn't hear them over the screeching. _You're gonna die here, Wren. You're going to fuck up and get yourself killed out here._ No. She just needed to keep her head on straight. She needed to check her surroundings. 

Peering around the edge of cover, Wren shouldered her assault rifle and looked through the scope. The banshees were close. Their heads tilted forward at odd angles, their long fingers covered in several shades of blood. Taking a deep breath, she lined up the closest one in her sights, and fired.

A bullet tore out of her gun with a crack and buried itself into the banshee's head. Instead of bringing the creature down, the shot only caught its attention, and it turned its gaze on her. Wren cursed. _Breathe. Aim. Fire._ The M-99 Saber was incredibly powerful for an assault rifle. It almost stacked up to ranged guns like the Mantis and the Black Widow. _Breathe. Aim. Fire._ But the bullets seemed to bounce off of the nightmare in front of her like they were nothing. It was so close now that she could see the way it's jaw hung completely slack, swinging slightly from its broken face. _Breathe. Aim. Fire._ The crushing black holes that had once held eyes were now empty, skin sagging away from the sockets. _Breathe. Aim. Fire._ It continued towards her and began to screech so loud she felt her ears pop with pain.

Wren yelled in anger and stood, shifting the gun from her shoulder to rest on top of the cement she had taken cover behind. Centering the banshee in her scope once more, she unloaded the rest of the clip into it's forehead. 

Stopping mid-screech, the horrid monster slumped to the ground and Wren let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She felt relief. But the feeling was quickly replaced by fear as she looked past the already decaying corpse to its counterpart, who was clawing for one of her squad-mates. A young 2nd Lieutenant by the name of Towning. He had to have been in his early twenties, although she'd never bothered to ask.

The second banshee latched onto its prey and lifted him into the air, causing him to yell out in panic, his arms flailing. Towning caught her stare and yelled out to her.

"Major!" 

He sounded so far away. His eyes were frantic and desperate and she knew if she didn't do something then his fate was sealed. Rage boiled in her and her amp began to heat up. She would not let another die while she was still standing. Time seemed to slow down as her biotics ran along her whole body. The world began to blur around her and in the blink of an eye, she charged across the battlefield and into her enemy. 

Barreling into the banshee and its target knocked loose not only her squad-mate, but her rifle from her hands. Wren stumbled and fell backwards, her head hitting the ground with a hard crack. Trying to blink away the spots dancing in her vision, she reached her hand out to her side, attempting to grab purchase of her gun. She was unsuccessful and suddenly there was an iron-grip on her wrist as the banshee grasped her arm. Lifting her none too gently off the pavement, she hung like a rag doll in front of the creature. It's dead eyes looking at her with no remorse. It's breath and skin smelling of rot.

"Major!" 

Wren's amp screamed in protest as her own biotics coiled up around her arms and legs. Her whole body wracked with pain as the banshee held her tightly and corrupted them with its own twisted power. Her nerves felt like they were being electrocuted and every cell in her body was being burnt alive. Wren opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

Still hanging limp in the banshee's grasp, Wren mustered enough strength to lift her other arm and put it between the two of them. Heat flooded her head and she felt like her brain was melting. She poured every ounce of energy into redirecting all the biotics through her amp and into the building power at the end of her arm. Her eyes started to swim and she realized she was dying. _Told you that you would fuck up and get yourself killed._ The voice in her head was all the encouragement she needed. If she was going to die, she was taking this ugly bitch with her. 

With the last of her strength, she pushed all the power she could muster into her hand. The biotics that had been rushing around her body suddenly left her other extremities and focused into her palm. They dimmed considerably and for a moment, she thought her abilities had failed her. All at once though, the energy that had built up exploded like a supernova, blinding her and causing everything to go dead silent.

...

Wren's eyes flew open and she gasped for air, choking on it like she had been drowning. Her legs were tangled in bed sheets and her clothes were sticky with sweat. Her gaze darted across the room as she realized she was not hanging from the grasp of a banshee. No. In fact, she was in her apartment on the Citadel. 

Relief flooded through her. A nightmare, then. Although, the amp on fire at the back of her neck almost convinced her otherwise. Rubbing her fingers to her temples, she attempted to stave off some of the pressure of the rising headache that had begun. The pistol she kept at her bedside had clattered onto the floor at some point during her squabble with the linens. Picking it up, she holstered it back in its place, her hands trembling as she did.

Three pounds at her front door made her jump slightly, her pulse still rapid. She glanced at the time. 0600. Four hours of sleep seemed to be the new eight. If her nightmares were any indication, she was suffering for it. 

"Major!"

Slipping out of bed, Wren wiped the sweat from her brow and went to answer the door. Her feet padded quietly across the tile. A soft orange light peered in through the window on the far side of the wall, casting lazy shadows across her floor and what little furniture she possessed. Her place wasn't big, but it was enough for her. 

Standing at her door was none other than 2nd Lieutenant Towning. His brown hair was cropped short and the pale red around his eyes showed he hadn't slept much either. Nobody had slept much since the war started. He snapped to attention. "Major Blackshaw."

"At ease, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" she asked, squinting at the harsh hallway light assaulting her eyes.

"Captain Combes would like to see you at the embassy, ma'am."

"He couldn't send me a message and tell me this?" Wren clamped down on a yawn that threatened to escape.

"The Captain also instructed me to bring you coffee," he said, handing her a very large, disposable cup filled with something incredibly hot. 

"Bribery, nice touch," she replied, taking an appreciative sip. The coffee, almost as black as the banshee's eyes had been, burned her tongue. She shook her head slightly to try and get rid of the last unsettling images of her dream. She turned her gaze back to the Lieutenant. "Alright, tell him I'll be there in a half hour." 

He nodded, saluting her. Wren watched as he began to walk away before she called out to him. "Hey, Towning?"

He glanced back. "Ma'am?" 

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three, ma'am." 

Wren nodded and closed the door behind her. 

...

At precisely 0630 Wren arrived at the Citadel Embassies. Nodding to a pair of C-Sec standing guard, she hit the access on the door and walked into the Human Embassy. Captain Combes glanced her way but said nothing, currently preoccupied listening to Councilor Udina. She stepped off to the side quietly and settled at parade rest.

"Captain, we cannot just send people to go gallivanting across the galaxy! We should be dispatching all of our ships to Earth! I order you to shut down this operation at once!" The veins in Udina's forehead stood pronounced against his quickly reddening skin. He looked like he was about to explode. 

"Councilor, with all due respect," Combes said, holding up a hand against Udina's onslaught, "I don't take orders from you. You don't have the support to stop this operation. The rest of the Council have already sanctioned this and have given us orders to proceed. You're the odd man out, Udina." Combes paused for a moment before he spoke again, "I want nothing more than to help Earth, but we cannot go there unprepared. You know that."

The Councilor was fuming and Wren thought for a second she might have to hold him back from attempting to plant a fist to the Captain's face. Instead, Udina simply turned and stormed out of the room, sneering at her as he left.

The door shut behind him with a soft swish, the scent of his cloying cologne barely following him out. Wren let out a scoff. Far be it for her to question the Councilor, but she'd always thought he was kind of a dick. 

The corners of Combes mouth curled slightly upwards but his eyes seemed tight when he finally looked to her. "Major." 

"Captain."

"How was the coffee?" he asked, gesturing her towards the open balcony.

"Persuasive," she replied, following him. She received a slight huff in response but the tightness around his eyes lessened a little. She considered it a small success. "What was that all about?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. Had it always been that gray? People seemed to age a lot quicker since the war had started two weeks ago. Standing in front of her now, he looked so much older than he really was. 

"That's what I asked you here for actually," Combes motioned to one of the couches and then sat down himself. Wren followed suit. "Do you remember when we talked about giving you that position with Special Ops or the 103rd? Being on a firing team?"

Leaning forward, Wren braced her elbows against her knees. "Before the Reapers hit Earth. Feels like a lifetime ago," she said, the last part coming out much quieter. 

"It was a lifetime ago," the Captain said solemnly. Wren nodded and waited for him to continue.

"We'd like to give you a similar position now. Not with N7," he explained, "you'd be working with members of other council races. But we have started building teams and I was able to put your name forward as a candidate for this mission." 

"What are you talking about, Captain? Who's we?" she asked.

In response to her questions, the door opened and a tall, gray haired man in dress blues stepped in. "Captain Combes and I have been helping to build multi-racial teams to send out and fight the enemy," he said, the scar below his bright blue eyes made him distinguishable from most humans. "We believe you'd be an excellent asset to this operation, Major Blackshaw."

Wren's eyes widened slightly as she realized who was addressing her. She stood immediately and saluted him, cursing herself internally for having not done so quicker. 

"Admiral Hackett, sir." Her reply came out surprised and she felt embarrassed. _Great first impression to one of the highest ranking members of the Alliance Navy, Wren. Well done._

"At ease, Major," he said, giving her a brief nod. She felt a bit like Towning in that moment. He approached the open balcony where her and the Captain stood and stuck out his hand.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Wren responded, shaking his hand firmly.

"The pleasure is mine, Major. Captain Combes has told me a lot about you and I'm certain you're right for the job." Admiral Hackett took the seat next to Combes, opposite of Wren. 

Sitting back down, Wren felt her brows pull together in confusion. "What job are we talking about, sir?"

The Admiral put his hands together and leaned forward. "We're calling it Hammer. We've begun creating small teams, each with members from different races across the galaxy. We'd be sending you to do missions and fight enemies that we can't send our fleets to do."

Wren shifted uncomfortably, "I don't understand, sir. I don't mean to sound insubordinate, but this sounds a bit like cannon-fodder."

"Not at all," Admiral Hackett replied, shaking his head slightly. "These teams will have some of the best and brightest. We aren't sending you to do anything we don't think you can't handle."

Wren turned her gaze from the Admiral to Captain Combes. "I should be with the fleet, Captain. Especially when we take the fight to the Reapers. I don't like Udina, but he wasn't wrong when he said we should send our people to Earth."

Combes ran a hand through his hair again and spoke, "Major... we aren't mobilizing the Sixth Fleet." Wren's response must have seemed evident because he held up a hand before she could say anything and continued, "I know that Udina thinks sending everyone to Earth is our best option, but it isn't. We've already lost half of the First and Fifth. If we sent the Sixth through the Sol relay, we would be slaughtered. We cannot afford to throw more people to their deaths. We have a plan but we can't execute it without some breathing room. Hammer will give us the chance and the leads we need to make that happen."

Admiral Hackett nodded. "We are losing in key locations to multiple enemies. Places where the Reapers are coming through our relays even quicker because we've lost a foothold in them. Some of these locations also have valuable information that could be crucial to our success in the war."

Wren chewed the inside of her cheek. The Admiral, seeming to sense her hesitation, spoke again, "Major, there's nothing we can do for Earth right at this moment. But we are going to fight back. Operation Hammer is one of the solutions we've come up with. If you want to help, this is how to do it."

"Why me?" Wren asked.

"Blackshaw," Combes began, "you are an excellent soldier and an even better squad leader. I saw it on my ship and every topside posting you've ever had," he paused and Wren looked away, a slight pang in her chest knowing what he was referring to. "You're tough, you give a shit, and you get things done. That's why you made it through the ICT program and became an N7. These are the qualities that this operation needs to be successful."

Wren let out a breath. She thought about it for a moment. If they really weren't going to mobilize the Sixth, she'd be stuck on the Citadel with the rest of them until ordered otherwise. She'd be letting people die while she sat in her apartment, twiddling her thumbs uselessly. And that simply would not do. "Alright. When do we start?"

Admiral Hackett nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "You'll meet your team tomorrow. We'll start plotting some locations on the map and we can talk strategies then."

Wren stood and the Admiral shook her hand again. "It's good to have you on board, Major."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to try at keep all the information as accurate as I can. Mentions of things like Hammer or N7, I'll try to keep as canon as I can with the information out there and in the games.
> 
> Thanks a lot to anyone who reads. Can't imagine this getting much attention but I couldn't get the story out of my head so I thought I'd at least share it.


	2. Civilian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wren meets the team.
> 
> Civilian by Wye Oak.  
> https://youtu.be/Mssm8Ml5sOo

Later that evening, in the quiet hum of her apartment, Wren sat and thought about what Combes and Hackett had said. A multi-racial team meant she'd be working with species other than humans. Which wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that she'd only EVER worked with humans.

She'd grown up on Bekenstein. Human colony. Joined the Alliance. Human military. Graduated as an N7. Human training. Every place she'd been stationed at over the years had been human. _Demeter, Sanctum, Ferris Fields._ Wren flinched away from the memory and snuffed out any chance of it gaining momentum. The last thing she needed was to be in a dark place.

She stood and paced back and forth across her floor. _You are an Alliance soldier, get ahold of yourself._ Heading over to her desk, she sat back down, opening up her omnitool and checking a few messages. But before long, her mind was wandering again.

Aliens. I mean, she was an alien too though, right? And having an apartment on the Citadel the last two years had certainly put her in close proximity with other races. Hell, there was an asari living across the hall from her. They had talked briefly a few times. What was her name? Irene? Irune? 

_Shit._

Alright, so she'd have to brush up on her galactic relations a little. Wren checked the clock. Almost midnight. "You've got eight hours. If you start reading about every race now, you might finish by morning," she grumbled to herself.

Sighing, Wren stood and headed for the bathroom. _Fuck it. You'll figure it out as you go._ She needed a hot shower and some sleep. Or at the very least, an attempt at sleep.

Turning the water to near scalding, she stood in front of the mirror looking at her reflection. Pulling her hair out of the knot she so normally kept it in, she really took in her appearance for the first time in a long while. She looked tired. Her normally deep brown eyes seemed incredibly dull, and were a bit red from the lack of sleep she was receiving. The dark curls she'd inherited from her mother had lost some of their bounce due to the severe hairstyle she wore it in. Her skin was dry and even looked a bit paler.

She looked like ass if she was being honest with herself. Wren hadn't ever really been one to care about her own physical appearance. It wasn't her looks that got her into the Alliance or N7 training. It had been her skills. It had been her determination. But man, it would be nice to feel like a woman every once in a while.

The mirror had begun to steam up and Wren scowled under her breath. _People are dying and you're sitting here in your cushy apartment worrying about your hair?_ Getting undressed and stepping into the almost too hot water, she sighed and took a long, much needed shower.

Wren found herself hounded by nightmares again that evening. Ghosts often did not let their victims lie undisturbed. And so she drifted in and out of a restless sleep, praying that morning came quickly.

...

She really shouldn't have been surprised. They had said multi-racial every time they had talked about the new operation. But now, sitting nervously in her dress blues next to Captain Combes, Admiral Hackett, and five other members of the galactic community, it was really starting to sink in. 

She had come earlier than the scheduled time. Firstly, because the dreams that haunted her made waking up early preferable to getting an extra hour of sleep. And secondly, she had already looked like an idiot in front of Hackett once, best not to do it again by being late.

The first member of her new team that had entered the room was a salarian. His skin was a pale green with indigo spots along his horns. His eyes were bright as he happily introduced himself as Velon Sax, and shook each of their hands enthusiastically. Saying nothing more, he had sat patiently and waited with them for the others to join.

Next had been a quarian, which surprised Wren immensely. She'd never even met a quarian before. They hardly left the flotilla, did they? With a galactic war going on against the Reapers though, she supposed everyone had to pitch in. Her environmental suit was almost completely black with gray accents along her hood and thighs. The pale blue of her mask and suit lights almost glowed against the ebony fabric. Wren thought it was really beautiful in a sad sort of way. She couldn't imagine living in a suit her whole life. The quarian hadn't shook their hands like the salarian had, but she had cleared her throat and said, "My name is Maala'Vos nar Reena. It's very nice to meet you all." 

An asari had entered after her. "Good morning," she'd said, her voice sounding like whiskey and cigars. "Telera Makeva, pleasure." The smirk on her face gave way to noticeable dimples on her cerulean skin, and it showed off the crimson tattoos across her face attractively. Her cheekbones and jawline were especially pronounced for an asari and her nose looked like it had possibly been broken once before. She had made a show of leaning back in her chair and setting her feet up on the table.

Wren wasn't really shocked when a turian had entered. In fact, she'd pretty much expected it. Everyone knew the turian hierarchy had the best military in the entire galaxy. It was only reasonable to assume that there'd be one on her team. His deep set eyes were a light amber, and the markings on his mandibles and chin were a stark white. They contrasted nicely against his dark skin. He'd nodded to each of them as he sat down but said nothing, not even his name. Maybe it was a turian thing. 

Only one more left then.

The room had sat in awkward silence for a few minutes as they had waited for the last member to join them. Even Hackett and Combes said nothing. They just sat silently like everyone else, checking and sending messages on their omnitool. 

Right when the time had hit 0800, a giant, hulking mass lumbered in through the door in full armor. His boots had sounded like shotgun blasts in the silent room and Wren realized she was staring at the biggest krogan she'd ever seen. The dark plate on his skull was black like soot, and his intense gaze swept across the room, evaluating each of them with eyes that reminded her of gold. Surprising, in the most terrifying way possible. He had gave a loud 'hmph' as he sat.

"Name's Warg." _Simple. Easy to remember._

And now, they were all here. This was where it was sinking in. Wren shifted a bit nervously. Resisting the urge to clear her throat or make it in any way obvious that she was slightly uncomfortable, she struggled to make herself sit still. It was like trying not to pick a wedgie. A pain in the ass only she could feel, and embarrassing if anyone caught her. She made her face as neutral as possible and watched as Hackett stood and begin to address them.

"As your own governments or superiors have told you, you've each been chosen to be a part of Hammer. This program was designed to be a covert military operation able to reach where our fleets cannot," the Admiral explained. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and making it a point to make eye contact with each of them while he spoke, "As you all know, we are all losing very important positions across the galaxy to multiple enemies. We've made these squads with some of the best each race has to offer to counter these attacks. It's time to fight back."

Hackett nodded to Combes, and the other man continued where the Admiral had left off. "When the Reapers hit, we were able to seize civilian and private ships to aid in the war effort. Most people are able to get a portion off of their taxes if they agree to let the military confiscate their ships during times of war. Don't think they ever thought we'd go through with it, but we did. Normally we'd be giving you one of these to go and complete these missions," Combes said, bringing up an interface of some smaller freighters with his omnitool. "However, Telera Makeva has offered up her own private ship in exchange for not having it seized."

The asari nodded, "I'd rather her still be in my care than have another squad flying her. Especially if she was just going to be taken for this operation anyways." She shifted her boots off the table and brought up another interface of her own. It showed a smaller starship and she continued, "We'll be on a class-F frigate. She can hold a maximum crew of 15 but we'll be able to fly her with just the six of us." 

Wren watched as Telera zoomed in on the ship's specs and she spoke again. "I just had her upgraded with GARDIAN weapons systems before the war started so we have some really great firepower for when we need it. Even though she's technically a 'civilian' ship, we used her on reconnaissance missions a few times because of her size and FTL drive." 

Bringing up an interface showing three sections of the ship, she pointed to each as she continued, "Top tier and first deck is the CIC and cockpit. On the second tier, we've got crew quarters, a small mess hall, and a room set up for medical. It also houses our life support so it's pretty compact. We'll be able to fix minor injuries but anything really serious will probably require a visit to a full med bay or hospital. Finally," she said, bring up the third tier schematic, "we have the cargo hold. There's a small armory down there for our armor and weapons. We keep the area opened up for sparring and training if we're not transporting extra cargo. Across from the cargo hold is the mass accelerator and the main battery."

The quarian spoke up, "She's beautiful. Where did you get her?" The admiration was clear in her voice.

Telera chuckled and said, "Babe, I've been alive a long time and I had a lot of creds saved up from being a commando. It has its perks. Being well paid is one of them." 

"This ship got a name?" Warg said, gravelly and deep.

"Viseka's Gift. She's been good to me the past few years," Telera mused proudly, smiling wryly at the krogan. She sat back, lifting her feet up onto the table again. "She won't let us down."

Wren had to admit, she was just as impressed as everyone else. Class-F frigates normally had state of the art mass accelerators. Add that to the GARDIAN weapons systems Telera said she had, and you have a pretty high end starship. Maybe they wouldn't be cannon-fodder after all.

A moment passed while everyone stared at the image of their new ship. However, it was soon interrupted by Admiral Hackett as he addressed the group again.

"This operation has no official timeline. We are hoping to recapture as many of these positions as possible with all of our teams. However, with the Reapers in almost every system across the galaxy, we don't have an estimate on how long this will take," he expressed, clasping his hands behind him. "I won't lie to you, this is going to be a difficult operation. We're sending you straight into hell, but only because we think you can handle it. So if you have any doubts that you are up to the mission ahead, now would be the time to say so."

No one spoke. Hackett waited a brief moment before nodding his head curtly. 

"Weapons and armor won't be provided, so you'll have to take your own. Although, I have a feeling that won't be a problem," Combes said, running a hand through his hair. "Since this is a multi-racial operation, you don't answer to just the Alliance. Even though we help oversee operations, it's not just us."

Admiral Hackett nodded again and added, "We are working closely with leaders of all races on this. They are helping to pick out top-priority locations. Captain Combes and I are here to brief you but rest-assured that we are all working together on this." 

The turian, who Wren had almost forgotten was there since he hadn't said a word the entire time, spoke up. "Why exactly is this a multi-racial mission?" 

"Officially," Hackett said, without missing a beat, "the Council wants to make each team unbiased, and give unique perspective to all situations." 

"And unofficially?" Wren asked, catching the turian's gaze. His eyes bore right through her and she quickly looked away, not wanting him to see any signs of uneasiness in her. She turned her eyes towards both the Admiral and Combes.

"Unofficially," Combes replied, giving a soft smile, "we don't know how many will make it out of this war. If we have any chance of moving forward in the galaxy after all of this is over, it must be together. We will need unity and to look out for one another, not just ourselves. We'd like this to be a step towards that future."

"No one wants to be left out in the cold," the salarian voiced, his fingers resting thoughtfully on his chin. Combes nodded, but didn't elaborate. 

Wren took a peek back at the turian again, no longer feeling his gaze on her. He seemed to be a bit lost in thought, perhaps contemplating what had just been said. His mandibles flexed slightly against his face and even though Wren didn't know turian facial expressions well, she thought he appeared sorrowful. She looked away hastily before he could catch her staring.

"When do we leave?" the quarian asked.

"Tonight," Hackett answered. "Welcome to Operation Hammer." 

...

Wren never had many possessions to begin with. Life in the Alliance didn't really allow for people to have many material objects so it was easy for her to pack light. Two duffel bags, one filled with her N7 armor and weapons, and one filled with clothes and other necessities. 

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she picked up a picture frame off of her nightstand and looked at it. It was the only one she had in her entire apartment. Most people didn't have physical photographs, not when they could keep everything they owned on their omnitools. But when Wren had signed up for the Alliance, her mother had given it to her as a parting gift. 

She rubbed her thumb over the image and smiled. It was a picture they'd taken in front of the farm right before she had enlisted. Both her mother and father stood in the middle, smiling and holding hands. Her younger brother, Connor, had a large grin on his face and was holding up some new model spaceship he'd just gotten. And next to them, Wren stood, holding her brand new baby sister Henley in her arms. Wren looked so young. The picture had been taken around nine years ago and it was the only thing she had brought with her when she left home. 

Slipping the picture into her duffel, she zipped it up and shouldered both bags. Her eyes roamed over the small space of the apartment. It had never been 'home' exactly, not with her constantly being shipped out as an Alliance soldier. But it had been something she could call hers. It would probably be a long time before she ever laid eyes on this place again. Looking back at her place one more time, possibly the last, she shut off the rest of the lights and closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt tedious when I wrote it, I don't know. Hopefully it wasn't tedious to read. I think I feel that way because I've read it so many times and because I held onto it for so long. Thanks so much to anyone reading, I appreciate it : )


	3. In Hell I'll Be In Good Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wren finds out a little more about her team and they manage to get a bit of a routine down out in the field.
> 
> Chose the song In Hell I'll Be In Good Company by The Dead South. Because if there's anything that the Reaper War is, it's hell. 
> 
> In Hell I'll Be In Good Company by The Dead South.  
> https://youtu.be/B9FzVhw8_bY

Viseka's Gift didn't disappoint. Sure, she'd seen bigger, more impressive ships. The Destiny Ascension was probably the most magnificent space vessel in existence, but that had been made by the asari as well. A bit elitist, but damn they knew how to build a boat. 

It reminded her of a barrel to a gun with its hard lines and elongated shape. Its name emboldened proudly on the side. Looking at it through the docking bay gate windows, she felt a sense of awe staring up at it.

"She's nice, right?" A rough, sultry voice asked.

Wren's head whipped around, startled slightly. The asari that had been in the meeting earlier that day stood behind her, arms crossed over her chest, one hip cocked to the side. Everyone thought the asari were attractive and in that very moment, staring at the one adjacent to her in commando leathers, Wren understood exactly why that was. She cleared her throat, nodded once and replied, "Impressive, that's for sure."

The asari chuckled and Wren was pretty sure she had read her mind or something. But she didn't mention it as she stuck out a hand and spoke again, "I don't think I caught your name this morning."

"Major Wren Blackshaw, Alliance Navy," she said, shaking her hand. The asari's grin widened and she cringed internally at her robotic reply. "Uh, sorry. That was a bit official. Just kind of an automatic response, I guess."

"Don't worry about it," she said, smiling. "I've worked with enough humans, I'm used to it. Pleasure to meet you again. Come on, everyone else is aboard. I'll give you the tour and we'll get you settled in."

"Yes ma'am."

The asari laughed again as she led the way down the gate ramp and through the docking bay doors, "Please, just Telera. I know you Alliance types love your formality but we're equals. Teammates. Being detached is fine for sending sitreps to command, but it won't help us any out in the field."

Wren gave a slight huff. Mostly because she knew the asa- _Telera_ \- was right. Whatever their rank had been in their positions prior to Hammer, they were supposed to be equals now. Getting past the nervousness of working with aliens would have to be a priority if they wanted to live through even their first mission. In combat, teams had to work in sync if they planned on staying uninjured and successful on missions. They had to be able to trust each other. That meant knowing each other on and off the battlefield. Being reserved would only hinder that. 

Realizing she hadn't responded, Wren swallowed some pride lodged in her throat and spoke up, "No, you're right. I didn't mean to seem standoffish."

Telera turned and smiled slightly, her features softening at Wren's admission. "Don't worry about it. It'll take some time to get used to working with each other, but it's better to get all the easy shit out of the way than to let it screw with our assignment down the road." She paused as they reached the hangar leading to the ship and palmed the control, letting the door slide open. "Besides, being called 'ma'am' makes me feel old." 

Stepping through the airlock, they entered the topside of the ship. The CIC wasn't extremely large. A round table sat in the middle of the room and several holographic interfaces were spread across and above it. Calculations, locations, references. She knew they'd be sorting through the information later but the amount that was there looked a bit daunting.

Both the quarian and salarian were there, looking at some of the ship's weapons schematics. Their heads raised when Telera and Wren walked in. "Velon, Maala, this is Major Wren Blackshaw," Telera said, addressing the two. "She's one of the biotics and weapons specialists on our team."

"Indeed," the salarian said, coming around the table. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Eager to work with everyone." 

"Major, you've met Velon Sax, our infiltrator," Telera said, watching Wren as she shook hands with him. "He's an expert on all things tactical so he'll be able to help us with some of the hand-to-hand combat should we need it." The salarian gave a slight smile.

"And Maala'Vos nar Reena, our engineering specialist." The quarian nodded as she joined the three of them and offered her hand to Wren as well. 

"You can just call me Maala," she said as Wren shook her hand. "I know the name can be quite the mouthful to some." 

"It's good to meet you both," Wren agreed, shifting her weight to the other foot. The duffel bags had started to dig into her shoulders and the pressure was beginning to get uncomfortable. Telera seemed to notice because she began to turn towards the stairs at the back of the CIC. 

"Let's get your stuff down to the armory before we take off. I think the other two are down there anyways," Telera said. Velon and Maala were already turning back to their previous discussion as her new teammate ushered her towards the cargo bay. 

Descending two flights down the stairs, they passed the second deck and went straight down to the third. Both entered the large, open cargo hold to see the turian and krogan putting their armor and weapons into lockers silently. Wren made a mental note that both had chosen the lockers as far away from each other as they could possibly get. 

Telera's arms went wide and she raised them up as if she was praising an all-knowing power above. Fixing them both with a devilish smile, she started into the cargo area. "Gentlemen," she said, causing the two of them to turn, "I am so pleased to see you settling in so nicely." 

The turian stared blankly at Telera and barely glanced at Wren as they walked in. The krogan, however, sniffed loudly and narrowed his eyes.

"Telera, you talk even more than most salarians do," he said, his deep voice rumbling through the mostly empty hold.

"Part of my charm," she replied.

"Not the word I'd use."

Telera chuckled, "Major Wren Blackshaw, this is Urdnot Warg. He's an absolute force of nature and the only one on this ship older than me. Also an occasional pain in the ass."

The krogan nodded. "I see you've met our resident windbag," he said to Wren, stabbing a thumb towards Telera.

"Make that a frequent pain in the ass," Telera retorted, her eyes narrowing.

The krogan laughed and stuck his gargantuan limb of an arm out to Wren. "Never worked with a human before. Hopefully you don't die too quickly," he said as he clasped Wren's forearm in an almost painful grasp. She did her best to return it.

"Haven't worked with a krogan before either. Try not to throw your back out while we're in the field," Wren replied before she could stop herself. Not that Warg seemed to mind. His rich laugh bounced off the deck plating as he turned back to his locker.

"You're alright, human." 

Telera smiled broadly and winked at Wren, "I'm just glad I won't be the only one around to give him shit." She turned towards the turian, who'd been silent through the exchange. "Major, this is Bardonis Tobestik. He's a biotic like you and I."

The turian's face remained void of emotion. She knew they weren't anything like humans or asari when it came to facial expressions. They had hard plates where she had pliant muscles. But this one seemed incredibly determined to remain indifferent, even for turian standards.

"It's nice to meet you," Wren said, reaching out in a decision to initiate the handshake when he made no apparent move to do so. He stared down at her open palm and for a second she thought perhaps he might not take it or that she had accidentally crossed some cultural line she didn't know about. However, she was proved wrong when he engulfed her hand with his larger, longer one. 

"Likewise," he said simply, before letting go and turning back to his impeccably organized locker. Shutting it, he left the three of them by the armory and walked back up to another deck, not sparing them a second glance. _Right._

Wren's hands flexed a bit nervously. "He seems intense."

"If that's another word for pyjak, then sure," Warg said.

Telera looked at him, her brows pulling together, "Who's the wingbag, now?" She turned away from him when he shrugged and gestured towards the lockers, "You can put your gear in one of these. I'm going to head up and start getting us undocked." 

Wren nodded as Telera jogged through the cargo hold and up the stairs, followed shortly by Warg. She was suddenly alone and it was then that she noticed the hum of the engines beginning to heat up. Wren opened up one of the empty lockers and began placing her N7 armor inside. She checked the magazine and safety of her M-99 Saber and placed it in the locker along with her Phoenix Gauntlets. 

It was at that moment that Telera's voice came over the ship's intercom. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard Viseka's Gift. I'm Telera Makeva, I'll be your pilot this evening." 

Wren chuckled and shut her locker, hurrying across the cargo back and back up the stairs. "We are currently third in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately 5 minutes," Telera said. Wren dropped the rest of her possessions off on the second deck and continued up to the CIC. 

The entirety of her team was there. Velon and Maala looking like they were doing something useful, Bardonis checking his omni-tool, and Warg sitting at a flight station looking bored. In the cockpit, Telera held a lit cigar between her teeth and was busy flipping through interfaces. She reached over and hit the intercom again, letting her voice carry across the whole ship. "We ask that you keep your arms and legs inside the ship at all times. Smoking," she said, taking a drag of her cigar, "is encouraged for the duration of the flight. We'd like to thank you for your cooperation, and we hope you enjoy your flight." 

The engines were at full power and Wren had forgotten how much she enjoyed being stationed on a starship. The hum of the mass accelerator could be felt through the floor plating and she felt excitement for the first time in a long time. 

...

In the first three days, they managed to take back two bases from Reaper forces. It had taken some getting used to, but the team had begun to get into some sort of routine. Wren and Warg were often the heavy hitters, moving across the battlefield without concern or hesitation. Bardonis and Velon were usually put into flanking positions, where they could do the most damage. Maala kept at a distance, using her sniper rifle and turrets to take out enemies from afar. And Telera... did whatever Telera felt like doing at that moment. Sometimes she was crushing opponents with her biotics and other times she was offering support with her biotic sphere. 

Their schedule hadn't allowed for much downtime. When they weren't preparing for their missions, they were sleeping or training. After taking out their second base however, they were waiting for their next location from command.

Wren walked out of the women's crew quarters and into the mess hall to see Warg, Telera, and Velon all sitting at the table. 

"I could definitely beat you," Velon said, his voice having a matter of fact tone that Wren noticed he always had.

Warg threw his head back and laughed, "I've taken shits bigger than you, salarian!"

"Exactly," Velon said, "never see me coming."

Wren grabbed one of the ration bars from the drawers and sat down with them. "What did I just walk into?" she asked, biting into her food and grimacing at the bland taste of nutrients.

Telera answered, "Velon and Warg are debating on who would win in a fight."

"It's not a debate," Warg voiced.

"Because he knows I'd win," Velon said, giving a slight smile and crossing his arms over his chest.

A giant fist slammed down onto the table, but it was followed by Warg's bellowing laughter again. "You're all talk, Velon."

Telera got up as the two of them continued their 'debate', and grabbed a couple of ration packs from the ship's small kitchen. Coming back over to Wren, she handed them to her. "Here," she said, "take these down to the dextros."

Wren obliged, finishing off the rest of her own breakfast and grabbing the packages from her cerulean teammate. 

"They've been down there working on one of Maala's turrets for a few hours now. I think it got pretty banged up in that last fight," Telera supposed.

Wren nodded and stood, listening to the last of Warg and Velon's conversation as she headed towards the stairs. Something about pyjaks and cloacas. 

The hand that was empty flexed nervously, and she stuffed it into her pocket to stop the movement. _It's just rations, get ahold of yourself._ It wasn't even Maala that made her nervous. The quarian was actually quite sweet. And she was one of the best snipers Wren had ever met. It was Bardonis who made her tense up. 

She had just left a conversation with an eight-hundred pound krogan who could probably crush her with one hand, and she was more nervous around the spiky turian. He hadn't been unkind to her. He was a good teammate and worked well with everyone else when they were in the field. But he just seemed so... cold.

Wren stepped into the cargo hold and saw the two dextros working silently on one of Maala's turrets. Bardonis was holding two parts together as the quarian took a soldering laser to it. Apparently it wasn't cooperating with her though because she did something that sent sparks flying.

"Bosh'tet!" Maala exclaimed, dropping the tool onto the ground. 

"Breakfast," Wren said, holding up the rations and shaking them a bit. "Telera said you've been down here a while."

The quarian sighed, frustrated. She stood, "Thank you, I appreciate it. I need a break." Grabbing one of the packages from Wren, she opened up her omnitool and began heading towards the stairs. "I'm going to make a call, we can finish fixing it later Bardonis." 

He nodded his head as she walked away, her footsteps fading as she made her way up to another deck. Wren found herself alone with the turian. In the most awkward silence she'd ever experienced. He picked up the soldering laser and placed it on the crate next to him. His gaze caught hers and he held it, his amber eyes scanning her face for something.

"Right," she said, sticking the ration out at him. He looked down at it and reached his hand out, gently taking the package from her. Wren nodded, and put her hands on her hips, unsure of what to do with herself.

The turian sat down on the empty crate, still staring at the meager breakfast Wren had just handed him. She cleared her throat and gestured to the turret, "Do you need any help?" It was probably the first full sentence she'd said to him since meeting.

Bardonis looked up at her again, and blinked. "Do you know anything about engineering?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Nope," Wren said simply. 

His mandibles clicked against his face in what she could only perceive as annoyance. When he spoke however, his dual-toned voice sounded vaguely amused. "I'm... not sure how much help you'd be."

Wren nodded, not offended by his words. She began to walk away when he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he said. Wren glanced over her shoulder to see him raise the ration in his talons. Giving him a slight smile, she nodded again.

 _Progress._ Sort of. 

...

"Goddamnit Velon!" Wren exclaimed, shaking off the blow he'd just landed.

"I told you that you needed to keep blocking," he said, dancing on his feet and keeping his hands loose.

"You told me I was leaving my left side open!" Wren declared. Dropping her hands, she grabbed her bottle of water and took a long drink. Hair from her ponytail had come loose and was sticking to the sweat on her neck and chest, making her itch. Her skin felt clammy against her sports bra and she was frustrated.

They had been at it for a while now, working on their hand-to-hand combat. Velon dropped his stance at her pause and blinked at her. "Told you to keep an eye out for hits coming to that side. It's vulnerable. Can't stop blocking other blows," he huffed slightly. 

Wren nodded, blowing air out of her nose hard like a bull. _You spend every mission in close quarter combat and you can't even take down a salarian._ She looked down at her feet in annoyance. It had been a long time since she'd had to do any training with another allied species. They'd worked on it briefly when she was an N3, but it was mostly classroom work. And it was mostly about batarians.

She hadn't even noticed Velon had approached until he laid a hand on her shoulder. His head turned quizzically and he took a second to make sure he had her attention. "You need to get out of your head Major. You are concentrating too hard. Mistakes out there won't end like this."

"I know," Wren sighed. "At least fighting the Reaper forces is predictable. I mean, there's a lot of them, but-" _Endless. Innumerable. Incalculable._ She swallowed, "but at least they aren't geniuses. I've fought harder things." 

Her vision had blurred as she stared off into the past. Velon squeezing her shoulder brought her back to present. She caught his gaze and he nodded. 

"Yes," he said simply, empathizing. Turning, he let go and walked back to the other side of the training mat they had laid out. He lifted his hands into ready position. "Again?" he asked.

Wren took a breath. "Okay." 

She shook out her arms and was about to go on the defensive when Telera's voice came over the ship's comms. 

"You guys better get up here, we just got our next mission."

"Where is it?" Wren inquired.

"A firebase in the Decoris System. It's on Sanctum," Telera replied.

Wren put her hands on her hips and sighed, "Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope that wasn't too cheesy trying to pin their classes to them. In the game no one is like "I'm an Adept" but they do say things like "I can send a shockwave at them" or "We have to overload his shields" soooo.. thats what I came up with. If it wasn't clear though:
> 
> Telera - Asari Adept  
> Warg - Krogan Soldier  
> Maala - Quarian Engineer  
> Bardonis - Turian Sentinal  
> Velon - Salarian Infiltrator  
> Wren - Human Vanguard (specifically the Phoenix operative, just with the exception that she's female, they only have a male version in multiplayer)
> 
> Next chapter the team visits Sanctum.


	4. Dogs Of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team takes on Firebase:Glacier.
> 
> Here's Dogs Of War by Blues Saraceno. I thought it seemed like an appropriate song to kick Cerberus ass too.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tN875A3Bj8

"I hate this planet," Wren said, rubbing her gloved hands together in a vain attempt to create some heat.

The team had landed on Sanctum a few hours ago, spread out, and taken up positions around the base. Apparently, it had previously been a Cerberus science lab, and the pro-human splinter group was not willing to give it up so easily. Command had picked up radio transmissions that Cerberus was planning to take it back. So far, no one had tried. And the team was getting restless.

"Is it always this cold?" Maala asked, her voice crackling through the team’s comms.

"Always," Wren replied dryly.

Warg, who was leaning against the wall opposite of her looking utterly bored and not at all affected by the cold, spoke up, "How do you know that?" 

Wren huffed slightly. Nobody had really talked about their careers much but they hadn't really had time either. They had been stuck here for a few hours though, so she decided she might as well start.

"When I was an N6," Wren began, "piracy on Sanctum was at an eleven year high. The miners here are tough, but they're just miners. Regular guys trying to make a living. So, the Alliance sent a few of us out to protect them and their resource shipments."

She paused and checked the thermal clip on her rifle. Realizing that everyone had gone completely silent and were waiting for her to continue, she cleared her throat slightly and kept going.

"I was stationed here for nine months. It never got warmer. And the pirates continued to attack the mining colonies across the planet," she remarked. "There was one particular evening that got pretty dicey. The miners had just come across a big eezo vein the day prior, and had sent the coordinates out for a cargo ship to come pick it up."

Wren remembered it like it was yesterday. The wind was always blowing and the snow had managed to get into every crevice of her Alliance armor. Unless you were near the equator, the sun was only up for a few hours. And even then, she could count on one hand the days it hadn't snowed while she was stationed there.

"So what happened?" Telera's voice wondered through her earpiece, bringing Wren out of her reverie. 

"Blue Suns intercepted the message. They were here within 24 hours, and there was a lot of them," Wren answered. "Often times, a few of us would escort the miners back after they were done for the day, just in case. Two other Alliance and I had just reached the caves when we realized our comms were being jammed."

Warg shifted and Wren looked up to see him grinning at her. "I'm assuming you took them down gently?" he asked.

She chuckled and continued, "Not at all. When we reached the miners, we could see shuttles coming towards our position. But the sun sets early here and it was dark, so we couldn't tell how many." 

The wind outside groaned low and she could see snow beginning to drift down in fat flakes. The clouds had parted just enough that Sanctum's moon shone brightly through the windows of the base, casting an eerie glow across the rooms.

"We barricaded ourselves and the miners in the eezo cave and considered our options. They were limited. We couldn't call for backup with them jamming the signal. We knew the Blue Suns outnumbered us. And when you're outnumbered with no backup, only two things can save you. Something big, or something clever."

A gruff, dual-toned voice came through her earpiece and Bardonis asked, "Which did you choose?"

"Both," Wren said. "The companies that come out here don't have much but their equipment is pretty solid. And they had this mining laser they had been using to get through the thick ice out here."

Her krogan teammate let out a hearty laugh, "Oh, I would have loved to see that."

"We got it set up as quickly as we could at the entrance and waited. One of the miners mentioned that a heavy storm was coming and that if we could just hold out for a few hours, they might get caught in it," Wren said.

She checked the seals on her gauntlets as she spoke, "We had the advantage of shelter and cover. They had nowhere to hide behind except for their shuttles. So, we aimed for what we could see. We held them off for a couple of hours and when the storm finally came in, the few that were left retreated."

"We should get a mining laser," Maala said seriously. "What happened after that?" 

Wren paused for a moment, her brows pulling together painfully at the thought, but the moment quickly passed and she shrugged, "The Alliance pinned medals on us for keeping the miners safe and I was promoted to N7. But it never did stop the mercs from coming here. As far as I know, piracy is still at an all-time global high."

Someone began to say something but was interrupted when Velon spoke up, "Hold on." Everyone went silent. It was then that the faint hum of thrusters could be heard. "Someone's coming," he said.

"Finally," Warg exclaimed, shouldering his shotgun.

"Showtime, people. Radio silence till this starts," Telera said over the sound of shuttles approaching the lower balcony. 

Wren and Warg stood tense at one of the doorways leading to the landing pad, one on each side. The krogan made eye contact with her, and signaled for her to get an eye on the company that had just arrived. Wren nodded once and peered around the corner.

There were a dozen Cerberus agents in full armor unloading themselves onto the platform. None of them were speaking to each other. Their guns were loaded and at the ready, and several of them were sweeping their scopes across the base, looking for movement. _They're expecting a fight._

There were only two entrances into the building they could use from the landing pad. The group split up, and six of them were heading towards her and Warg. Getting back behind cover, she took a step further away from the entrance and gave Warg the head count. She signaled to let him know they were coming, and to be ready.

Deep gold eyes blinked in acknowledgment and glared at the doorway. He tipped his soot colored plate forward slightly, and waited to charge. Wren felt her muscles tense as they waited.

Two Cerberus agents barely made it through the door before Warg let out a battle cry and charged them at full speed. Three of them managed to roll and duck out of the way in time but the others were not as fortunate as he continued to bulldoze them through the door and back the way they came. 

Wren knew he could handle himself so she focused on the enemies in front of her. The three of them had managed to stagger out of the krogan's way but were still unsteady on their feet. Taking advantage of the situation, Wren channeled her biotics through her gauntlets and watched as electric whips poured from her wrists out onto the floor. Swinging her arms out and around her, she lashed out with them as hard as she could. 

The one that was closest crumpled to the ground immediately, and the other two both flew off of their feet. Wren brought her assault rifle around, putting four rounds into each of them. Changing out her thermal clip, she put another four into the one she was pretty sure was already dead. Just in case. 

Wren looked over her shoulder at Warg to see the krogan blasting one of the Cerberus agents with his shotgun and throwing another over the railing of the balcony. She could hear gunfire from the other end of the base. Adjusting her earpiece, she asked, "How's it going over there?"

Maala spoke up over the gunfire, "We're doing well, but there's more coming up the back stairs, we can't fight on two fronts!" 

Warg crushed his fist into his last opponent, sending him flying, and replied, "On our way!"

The two of them rushed through the hub and sprinted towards the back stairs. Wren was rounding the corner just in time to come face-to-face with a Cerberus agent. “Fuck!” Her rifle came up and she shot his face through the helmet. The round had enough kick that it threw him back, his foot hitting the edge of the stairs causing him to tumble back down them, passing five more Cerberus agents on the way. All of whom rose their guns and aimed at her.

_Fuck._

Wren dived for cover just as the shooting began. Her shields hissed in protest at the few rounds that made their target.

A chuckle rumbled over the gunfire and she looked to see her krogan teammate laughing at her. "You think you should check your scanner next time?"

"Screw you," she replied, flinching away from a bullet that ricocheted off the metal next to her. 

Warg laughed again and stepped out from cover. "I. AM. KROGAN!" He yelled as he charged down the stairs, causing no small amount of surprised yelps at his very presence.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him down. They made quick work of the remaining Cerberus operatives, making sure to keep them off of the rest of the team. Soon, it was just them, and their sensors indicated no other live enemies in the area. Just to be safe though, Wren put a bullet through each of the Cerberus helmets and reloaded a new thermal clip.

The gunfire through the rest of the base came to a stop and Warg nodded his head at Wren, pleased at the amount of bloodshed. "Nice work."

"You too," she replied, slightly out of breath. She reached up to her comms, "Everyone alright?"

“No serious injuries," Telera said. "Meet us up in the hub.”

Wren and Warg headed back up the stairs, rounding the corner to see the rest of the team there. "Do you think that is the last of them?" Maala asked, hitting her medi-gel seal, sighing quietly in relief.

Telera shook her head, looking through one of the terminals, "Doubt it. But we waited for hours before anyone even showed up. We might still have some time before they try again." She stood straight and looked over at Wren.

"We should do a field strip," Wren said, gesturing towards the numerous screens littering the room, "take anything that looks remotely useful. That way at least they don't have much to come back to."

"Agreed," Telera replied. 

The hub of the base had quite a few terminals but Wren wasn't a computer expert. Unable to find any unencrypted information worth taking, she gave up with a sigh, and went to stand by Warg. The krogan was leaning against a wall, looking bored as usual and cleaning splattered blood off of his shotgun. 

"Anything useful?"

Grumbling, Wren shook her head, "Not on my end."

"I've got something," Bardonis said, his talons flying over a holographic interface of one of the terminals.

Velon leaned over his shoulder and looked at the information alongside him. "What is it?" he asked.

The air suddenly became tense without warning and Wren felt a slow pang of uneasiness crawl up her spine. Bardonis had become completely stiff and his hands ceased their movements. "They're blueprints..." he said.

"For what?"

Bardonis's voice cracked as he began to reply, "They're plans for defense sensors. These could have warned us of the Reaper invasion sooner... up to an hour sooner" His pale amber eyes which had been somewhat pained turned angry, and his shoulders shook faintly with rage. "These... these plans could have saved thousands. We could have evacuated civilians... saved lives! And Cerberus was just... hanging on to them!"

His anger could be felt from across the room and Wren understood his pain. Millions of lives had been lost when the Reapers first hit. No one had been ready. Earth had been hit the worst but she knew that Palaven was a close second. He had probably lost people he knew.

Wren began to walk over to where the rest of her team stood around the terminal. She opened her mouth to say something, anything. But just then, the turian’s hands clenched into fists and he slammed one down into the terminal as he yelled out in rage. Biotics fizzled around his arms and the shaking in his shoulders became more prevalent. His voice was dripping with resentment when he spoke again, "Fucking humans."

She stilled mid step. 

The room abruptly went silent. Nobody stirred except Warg, who began to move into a ready stance so slowly that if it weren't for the tension ripe in the room, she could have laughed at him for it. Wren felt her chest tighten, and her head swam with a number of emotions, making her dizzy. 

Bardonis refused to meet her gaze but she could tell he was furious. He just continued to stare at the blueprints with such utter coldness that she swore she could physically feel it from across the room. And it was much more biting and bitter than anything Sanctum had to offer.

Before anyone could say anything, he grabbed his rifle and stormed out of the room, his biotics never subsiding as he did.

Wren let out a shaky breath. Her mouth felt dry and she thought she was going to be sick.

"Wren..." Telera began.

Not wanting her sympathy, Wren shook her head once and walked out as well.

_So much for progress._

...

"Again."

She could hear Telera breathing hard and watched as one of her hands came up to wipe a bead of sweat off her forehead. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You've been at it for a while now..."

The concern in her voice was evident but Wren was not interested in concern. She was angry. Enraged, even. Angry at Cerberus. Angry at the Reapers. Angry at Bardonis.

At herself.

"Again!" Wren snapped, bringing her hands up to fight.

Telera sighed, but readied herself. The two of them had been sparring for what seemed like hours. Wren had lost track of the time. She had already exhausted Velon and Maala, and Warg had flat out refused to fight her, which just made her even angrier. But she needed to fight. She needed to let some of her fury out somehow. Training with her team allowed her to work on her hand-to-hand and get to know their fighting styles better. She had been trying to focus on their weaknesses but her anger was distracting her more than she liked.

The asari stood defensively, knowing that Wren would come charging at her. So she did just that, leaping after Telera, and attempting to land a hand on her. The asari was fairly quick however and managed to dodge out of the way just in time. They traded a few blows, weaving in and out of range of each other.

Telera lashed out to hit her, but instead of moving out of the way, Wren stepped into her before she struck. The asari was off balance and Wren took the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her. Telera fell to the ground hard, her breath leaving her chest in a loud rush.

The asari groaned slightly and gingerly picked herself up off the ground. Wren stuck her hand out to help but Telera waved it away.

"I think that's enough for me today," she said, clutching her side.

Wren huffed, "Fine." She handed a bottle of water to Telera before stalking out of the cargo hold and up the stairs to the mess hall where she knew Bardonis would be. It was time to see if this was going to be a bigger problem than she already believed it was.

He sat at the table, looking through his omni-tool when she pointed her finger at him, "Your turn."

The turian didn't even look up at her but he stiffened. His voice was clipped as he said, "I'm not going to fight you."

"Yes, you are," she replied angrily.

"I don't want to."

"I don't give a shit what you want right now."

Bardonis bristled at that. His head whipped up to look at her, and he stuck his chin out defiantly. Before he could say no again, Wren turned away and marched back down the stairs, re-wrapping her hands along the way. When she reached the cargo hold, it was empty. Telera must have known what she had marched off to do.

The turian was not far behind, and he ripped his gloves off as he stepped onto the sparring mat. He stretched out his arms and rolled his shoulders. Wren waited at the ready, feeling the adrenaline begin to rush through her. Her ‘fight or flight’ was kicking in hard and she felt her hands shake as she stood opposite of him. Her legs felt like they were going to take off without her and she waited for the chance to jump at him.

When he finally looked at her, his brow plates were pulled together and she could see all the rage that been there on Sanctum. His mandibles were tight against his jaws and he crouched slightly, his knees bending a bit. He kept his hands open and loose as he watched her, waiting for her to move. Wren let out a growl and jumped at him. 

Fighting the turian was a lot different than fighting everyone else. Turians had longer arms and a further reach than anyone she had ever fought before so it was hard to land a blow and keep away from his talons at the same time. They were both surprised when she struck his cheek, and she could feel the bruises on her hands that were beginning to form, even underneath the wraps.

He snarled and lunged for her. "Why have you insisted on challenging everyone on this ship?" he snapped as she barely managed to roll out of his reach.

“Because,” she said, deflecting a blow to her right side, and landing one of her own on his, "when we spar, it shows me their weaknesses."

"So you can exploit them?" he spat at her, the dual-toned voice choked with anger. He rushed at her again but this time she did not move out of the way. Instead, she ducked low and wrapped her arms around his thin waist. Using his momentum against him, she used all of her strength to throw him as hard as she could. 

"So I can protect them!" she yelled as he hit the mat. She straightened as he skidded across the floor. Her jaw clenched hard as her eyes threatened to water. Her adrenaline was hard spent but her hands still shook as she addressed him again.

"I would give my life for those on this ship because we are a team!"

Bardonis sat stunned at that. The pain in his eyes was still evident but his mandibles went slack against his face as he stared up at her. He kept his mouth closed though, and all at the once the fight seemed to leave Wren.

She deflated, and her hands unclenched at her sides. When she spoke again, it was much quieter, "It does not matter that we are different races, we are fighting the same fight. We are both out here to help. And I would fight Cerberus, just as I would fight the Reapers. Doesn't matter that they are human. And it sure as shit doesn't matter that I am as well. I am nothing like them. So fuck you for comparing me and countless other Alliance soldiers to them. We are spilling blood for this galaxy just like everyone else." She turned away quickly when her eyes started to sting. _Goddamnit._

Bardonis said nothing though, and she took her leave, not giving him a second glance.

...

Wren slept. Or she tried. She woke in the middle of the night cycle, the normally bright lights of the ship were dimmed almost entirely for everyone who slept. Rolling over in her bunk, she looked to see Maala still soundly asleep in her own bed. Her shoulders and chest rising and falling slowly as she dozed. 

Rubbing her eyes, Wren sat up and noticed the third bunk in the room was empty. Slipping out of bed, knowing fully well that she wasn't going to get any sleep, she went in search of her crewmate.

The asari was sitting in her chair in the cockpit, the smoke from her cigar rolling from her mouth. The soft orange glow from the end of it lighting her face briefly as she inhaled. She looked up as Wren came to join her.

"Bad dream?" Telera asked, as she sat down next to her.

Wren shook her head, "Just couldn't sleep." A cigar butt sat in an ash tray next to Telera, smoking slightly. "Warg?" Wren asked, gesturing to it.

Her teammate smiled faintly, "You just missed him. He kept me company for a bit when Velon went to catch some sleep."

Nodding, Wren paused before saying, "Did you two know each other before the war? When we first met, it seemed like you guys were already friends."

Telera chuckled softly and smiled, taking another drag of the cigar. "Caught that, did you?" she wondered. "Yeah, we knew each other before all of this. I've known him a long time actually. Centuries even."

"Jesus," Wren replied. "How did you guys meet?"

"I was a mercenary at the time, an Eclipse sister-" Telera stopped when Wren's jaw fell open and she laughed.

"You were an Eclipse sister?" she asked incredulously.

Telera swatted her hand at the question and smiled, "I was young and an idiot. It was very short lived anyways."

Wren plopped her back against the chair and shook her head, "I can't believe you were a merc."

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" Telera asked.

Wren shut her mouth and motioned for the asari to continue.

Taking another drag of her cigar, Telera started again, "I was merc, and so was Warg. Our groups were doing some business together. We caught word of a weapons shipment for a rival gang going through the Terminus Systems. Apparently this weapon was without compare, it had wreaked havoc on a lot of mercenary groups, ours included. So, we decided we were going to hit it."

She paused, and smoked again, her eyes lighting up in the faint glow. "We finally get to this shipment, kill the rival mercs transporting it, and open it up."

"What was it?" Wren asked.

"Not what. Who," Telera said. "Turns out, it was just some kid biotic. A turian. The rival merc group had taken her and her family hostage when they raided her village. Realizing she had insanely amazing powers, especially for her age, they used her family against her. Threatened to kill them if she didn't do as they asked."

"So what did you do?" Wren said, leaning forward.

"Eclipse wanted to take her for themselves," she said, shrugging. "I said it wasn't right since she was just a kid but they wouldn't listen. Guess Warg agreed with me because when I opened fire on everyone, he joined in as well."

Wren let a low whistle out, "That couldn't have been easy. Just the two of you against everyone else?"

"Easier than you'd think, they weren't expecting it. Besides, that kid turian joined in too. Can't say she held any love for her captors," Telera said. "We killed everyone there and set her and her family free. That was the end to my mercenary career and Warg and I always kept in touch after that."

Laughing softly and shaking her head, Wren saw her crewmate smile at the old memory. She turned her head and looked out the large window at the stars. They sat in companionable silence as Wren watched the vast emptiness of space and thought. Her smile quickly faded and she felt sick as her mind found its way back to the words she had said to their very own turian biotic earlier that evening.

"He was right, you know," Wren said softly, still staring out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Telera turn her head to stare at her.

"Who?"

"Bardonis," Wren replied. "Those plans could have saved lives. We could have evacuated more civilians, helped people. And Cerberus was just keeping them hidden because they don't want to help aliens." She shook her head, angry once more. 

Telera huffed slightly at her admission and set down her cigar, turning her entire chair to face Wren. "That's not your fault. And it certainly isn't the fault of the entire human race."

"Isn't it though?" Wren whipped her head around to look at the asari. "Cerberus wouldn't even have roots if humans weren't inherently secretive and afraid."

"Are you speaking about humanity or are you speaking about yourself?" Telera asked, not unkindly, continuing before Wren could even reply, "Every race has its secrets and they definitely all have their groups of bad people. That's just the way of things. But just as there are humans who wish harm to others, there are humans who wish to help as well. You are proof of this, are you not?"

Wren looked away from her again, her eyes glazing over as she stared off into the distance. 

Telera spoke again, "I can see turmoil in you, over many things. You hide your secrets well, but there's no need for it. And you certainly don't need to bear the entire weight of humanity on your shoulders. Bardonis’s anger was correct, but it was misplaced. It is not humanity who we are at war with. It is the Reapers. If Cerberus wants to get in the way of that, let them. They will die just the same."

This was the first time Wren had ever considered Telera to be wise. Normally she was all jokes, but she could feel the asari’s eyes address her with centuries of experience. Even her vocabulary had changed as she spoke. She was reading Wren like an open-book, but did not pressure her to say anything. So, she stayed silent.

"If it makes you feel any better, the blueprints were never completed. Velon and Maala both looked over them extensively but couldn't find any evidence that the defense sensors would have truly warned us of the Reapers," Telera said, laying a hand on Wren's shoulder. "The plans couldn't have helped anyone, not even Cerberus.”

Wren gave a small smile and Telera returned it. The asari picked up her cigar once more, “You should try and get some sleep. We’ve got a long war ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really appreciate the kind words and kudos you guys have left : )


	5. Lead Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firebase: Jade. Oh, and progress?
> 
> Lead Me Home by Jamie N Commons.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptH60ktLqBM
> 
> I really liked this song for the first and third scenes, they helped me finish this one.

Wren stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom, looking at her reflection. Dark circles under her eyes were barely hidden against her olive skin. The chocolate brown curls of her hair were limp and she felt more tired than ever before. Her nightmares were getting worse and she knew it. 

During her sleep she had knocked the pistol she kept by her bedside out of its holster and had shattered the picture frame gifted to her by her mother. She was only glad she had woken up alone in the women's quarters. At least she wouldn't have to explain things to Telera and Maala. They meant well, but the last thing she needed was for them to look at her with pity.

Attempting to pull her hair back into a ponytail, Wren winced at the pain in her right hand. It had been two days since the fighting and sparring and both of her hands were still in poor shape, bruised beyond belief. She was almost certain she had broken a couple of knuckles in her fight with Bardonis, but the adrenaline had kept her from feeling it right away.

She exhaled slowly at the very thought. She hadn't seen him hardly at all since then, which was remarkable considering how small the ship was. He'd been doing his best to avoid her, and she him.

Grimacing against the pain, she wrapped her long hair in a tie and set out to get something to eat. She found the mess hall empty and was almost relieved, wanting to be alone for just a little bit longer. Opting for a bowl of cereal instead of a ration, she grabbed her breakfast and went to sit down and eat.

The pain in her hand was almost unbearable but she attempted to push through it and eat anyways. The spoon shook and half of its contents fell back into the bowl. _Fucking cooperate, it's just cereal._ She tried again, lifting the spoon up to her mouth, only to find that her hand was trembling so hard from the pain that the food once again made its way back into the bowl.

"Goddamnit," Wren said quietly, tossing the utensil into her breakfast. Milk and grainy flakes of cereal sloshed out onto the table at the disturbance. She closed her eyes and took in a long breath. 

A faint shuffle of noise behind her caught her attention and her eyes flew open at the sound. She turned to see Bardonis standing there in the entrance of the room. He was staring at her with an expression she could not place and was wringing his hands together. In a human, she would have considered it nervousness, but in a turian, she was unsure of what it meant. 

Absolutely fantastic. She had been concentrating so hard on her breakfast that she hadn't even heard him enter. She turned away from his gaze, embarrassed. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I was just leaving." She started to get up.

"You weren't," he replied. 

Wren glanced at him and he gestured towards the cereal. "You haven't eaten any of that."

She felt embarrassment once again, her neck and face heating up slightly at having been called out. By Bardonis, of all people. 

The turian let out a quiet sigh and walked across the room to the small med bay the ship had. Returning a moment later, he sat down in the seat next to her and produced a medi-gel pack. "Sit," he said, nodding towards her chair.

Wren scoffed a bit incredulously, "Excuse me?"

"Your hands," he voiced, the dual-tones betraying a bit of annoyance. "You cannot eat breakfast, let alone shoot a gun or fight with them in that condition. It's been two days, and if you're not going to treat them yourself, then someone else must."

Wren felt her eyes widen at every single word he said. She thought about the number of things she could reply with, most of them centered around creative uses of the words 'fuck' and 'off'. But all she could do was watch stunned as he tore open the package and looked up at her expectantly.

Another moment passed and his mandibles fluttered faintly when he spoke again, "If you die from your inability to shoot properly because of a broken hand, who's supposed to watch our six?" Who was this turian, and what had they done with Bardonis?

"You don't need to-"

"-Please," he interrupted. "Just..." his voice trailed off as he gestured to her seat once more.

Slowly, and with the utmost suspicion, she did so. Surely this was a ruse. A trick. A scheme of some sort. _Perhaps he intends to poison you, wouldn't that be a way to go?_ She was beginning to wonder if it was even medi-gel at all until he rubbed a healthy dollop of it on her hand with a small cloth. The relief was almost instant and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips.

She cursed herself internally. 

He payed special attention to the wicked looking bruises on her right hand, causing her to flinch slightly at the pressure. But the medi-gel did its work well as it quickly seeped its way through her system.

They sat in silence as he worked and even though she was fully clothed, she felt extremely vulnerable and naked in front of him. His gloved talons released her now healing fingers and he reached for her other hand as she continued to sit stunned and confused.

"This cut is recent," he said, almost questioningly.

Wren looked down. She had managed to slice her hand open when picking up the shattered glass of the picture frame. She let out a small hiss when he pushed medi-gel down into the wound. "An accident," she replied, attempting to make her voice neutral.

He only nodded.

Wren couldn't decide if he had changed his mind about her or was just prone to mood swings. Either way it pulled her brows together in irritation and she said, "You're kind of a pain in the ass, Bardonis."

His mandibles clicked against his face and she wondered if she was risking his ire once more. At least if she had to punch him again, her right hand was healed enough to do so. But instead of getting angry, he simply let out an amused chuckle. It was the first time she had ever heard him laugh.

"There," he said when he finished, "good as new." 

Wren eyed them suspiciously, and then him, watching as he wiped his gloves off with the same cloth. He stood and turned to walk away. Her gaze narrowed and she pointed a now healed finger at him, "If my hands fall off because of this, I swear to God, I'm going to beat you to death with the stubs of my arms."

A deep laugh followed him out as he left the room. "Eat your breakfast!" he called out, leaving her to wonder what exactly the fuck just happened.

...

Sur'kesh was beautiful, but humid. Lush greenery spread out as far as the eye could see and was only interrupted by the occasional salarian architecture. The waterfalls that spotted the land ran water that was clear as day, and Wren couldn't help but admire everything except the warm dampness that hung in the weak breeze.

Warg took a suspicious sniff of the air and seemed to grimace slightly at the whole thing. "So," he said, "this is the salarian homeworld?"

Velon nodded, taking his own sniff of the air, much more appreciative. "Magnificent, isn't it?" 

"Bit clean for my tastes," Warg replied as the team walked along the length of one of the salarian labs. Their boots clunked against the tile floor, and the bleached walls seemed out of place amongst the tropical vegetation.

"That's because you're a dirty old man, Warg," Maala said, her voice having a teasing lilt to it.

The krogan laughed and gave a large smile, "As if you'd have me any other way." Maala giggled.

"Don't encourage him, hun," Telera said ahead of them, glancing back and rolling her eyes at Warg's answering chuckle. 

The team walked through a large doorway as Velon led the way through the base. Many of the salarians eyed them nervously. Warg did his absolute best to look menacing, which wasn't terribly difficult, but it made Wren laugh.

Ahead of them, a pale brown salarian in black armor was giving orders. Velon called out, "Major Kirrahe, I'm told 'congratulations' are in order."

The Major turned around and gave a broad smile. "Velon Sax, it's good to see you again!" The two salarians clasped arms.

"Heard you were promoted," Velon said.

"You heard correct," Kirrahe nodded.

Warg's enormous arms crossed over his equally enormous chest as he sniffed loudly, clearly unimpressed. "Velon, you know this pyjak?"

Their teammate nodded, "I was STG for many years. Major Kirrahe and I worked together a few times."

The Major regarded Warg with a smile. "You're the second Urdnot to land on Sur'kesh this week," he said, watching as Warg narrowed his eyes. "Although, I must say, this visit is already going much better."

The salarian gestured for the team to follow him and he approached a large terminal with a map sprawled across it. "Cerberus came here a few days ago during a mission and attempted to take this lab out. They were unsuccessful though and have since regrouped and taken a base just north of here," he voiced, pointing towards the location on the map.

"Do you have an estimate on their numbers?" Bardonis asked. Wren wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead as cover to glance at him. The turian was apparently unaffected by the muggy air. His dark umber hide was matte even in the late Sur'kesh sun, and the chalk white colony markings on his face stood stark against his skin. His fringe was sharp and a majority of the time he held a serious expression, a quality that she figured all turians had.

Wren took a deep breath, her mind wandering. She didn't feel as angry now. She felt... a sense of understanding? Perhaps a small amount of guilt. The pain she had seen in Bardonis was the look of suffering. His wrath had been righteous and raw. Wren understood rage more than anyone, it was how she learned to fight, but she also understood compassion. She had challenged him on the ship because she was pissed, not because she thought it would help.

 _You have the right to be angry, don't you?_ As much as he did. But two wrongs didn't make a right, and she knew that. They were different races, but Bardonis was a person just like she was. He felt anger and grief like everyone else.

Too busy staring at the alienness of her turian teammate, she hadn't registered the conversation had continued without her. Heat flushed her neck and cheeks at the realization she hadn't listened to a single word that had been said, hadn't even payed attention to the briefing. Scolding herself, she attempted to get her head back on track. Maala nudged her with her elbow. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

Wren nodded. "It's just hot."

_Idiot._

"Alright," Velon said, "let's head out."

Major Kirrahe clasped arms with Velon again, "Good luck out there." He nodded to each of them and made sure to give Warg a wide grin as he passed. Wren pushed her helmet on and double checked the seals on her gauntlets one last time as they walked out.

It didn't take the team long to reach the northern base. Stepping through rubble, they found themselves on the upper level of another salarian lab. Each of them quietly took cover when movement registered on their sensors. 

Wren glanced out from their temporary refuge. Cerberus agents filled the ground tier of the base. Each of them were heavily armed but relaxed, seemingly unaware of the team's presence.

"Jesus, they're everywhere," Wren said quietly.

Bardonis's low voice sounded pleased, "They don't know we're here, we have the element of surprise."

Maala already had her Black Widow perched and at the ready, "Just say when."

"Let me get clear," Velon said, slipping out of sight as he activated his tactical cloak, "I'll flank them from that cover on the east side."

A movement to her right caught Wren's eye. Glancing over, she took a look at Warg to see him ready to pounce. She could feel the krogan's impatience radiating off of him in waves. He was practically tapping his foot and crossing his arms in agitation. 

"Warg..." she warned.

The big krogan blinked at her, giving her a dumb grin. And then, because he just couldn't fucking help himself, he gave a roaring battle cry and leaped over the railing. He landed on the ground floor with a crash as the tiles shattered under his weight. 

"Damnit Warg," Telera said, exasperated, "I should shoot you myself." She placed a biotic barrier around them and pulled her pistol out as she stepped out from cover, shooting a startled trooper in the head.

And just like that, the battle had begun. Warg crashed through groups of surprised Cerberus agents like an unshackled varren, tearing apart whatever he could. Bardonis had rushed across the field to join Velon, who was weaving in and out of enemies, practically unseen. Maala's turret gunned down anything in its path and she fired her Widow at a steady rhythm, a heartbeat of the battle itself. 

The team had never fought this many enemies at once but they worked together like a well-oiled machine. Wren did her best when the Cerberus agents were standing in groups or close together. The biotic cords of her gauntlets lashed out, catching opponents and sending them through the air.

A shotgun blast boomed loudly across the base. "That's nine!" Warg shouted, laughing loudly.

Velon's tactical cloak briefly left him and he appeared from thin air, shooting two enemies with his pistol. "Eleven," he said curtly as he shimmered back out of sight.

Warg growled over the comms and Telera's normally sultry voice turned stern as she asked, "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Warg believes he can kill more opponents than me," Velon replied, "I assured him that would not be the case."

"And I assured him," Warg shouted, his voice audible through both comms and ears, "that he was a lying little pyjak who couldn't beat me if he tried!"

Another agent fell. "Twelve."

Warg let out a battle cry and charged into a group of Cerberus enemies as a response.

Wren was struggling with the trooper in front of her, grappling with him as he went to take her gun from her, having been relieved of his own at her insistence. She punched him, sending him reeling slightly, before grabbing onto the collar of his armor and shoving the barrel of her rifle into his gut. She unloaded the clip into him, marching forward as his feet propelled him back.

A rough hand on her shoulder startled her and she turned just in time to see one of the Cerberus soldiers raising his gun at her. Before she could turn around to defend herself, a bullet exploded through his helmet, causing him to drop.

"Fuck!" Wren exclaimed. She looked up to see Maala watching her through the scope of her rifle. "You could have warned me!"

The quarian shrugged, a hint of a smile in her voice, "You looked busy." 

Wren shook her head and chuckled somewhat.

"Say Maala," Bardonis began, "where'd you get that rifle anyways?"

Maala cleared her throat slightly, firing another shot, "It was a gift."

"A gift?" Wren said, a bit incredulous. "That gun is worth two hundred fifty thousand credits. That's some gift!"

"It was from my boyfriend," Maala replied, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Oh," Telera replied seductively, "is that who you're always sneaking off to make calls to?" Wren couldn't see the asari, but she was sure her eyebrows were waggling at the question.

Maala sighed exasperated, "Can we please not talk about my love life while we're shooting things?"

Wren glanced across the field to where Bardonis was, maybe twenty yards away, as he laughed and asked, "What else are we supposed to talk about?"

She found herself surprised at him again. This was the first time he had ever joined in on the banter.

Noise from overhead caught her attention and she glanced up. A Cerberus fighter flew slowly through the air, carrying something massive. Wren felt like she was watching in slow motion as it was released from the ship and began to unfold in midair.

_Shit._

"Atlas!" she called out, ducking for cover.

The heavy mech hitting the ground caused even more commotion than Warg had. The entire base shook and the tile floor practically exploded under its metal appendages. Wren looked out to check its position. As the dust settled she noticed it had landed, maybe twenty yards away, where Bardonis had just been. 

Wren stood abruptly. The Atlas rose to its full height, a mountain of steel, undaunted and unyielding. And just off to the side, a dazed turian sat defenseless.

"Bardonis!" Wren yelled, but he did not move. The Atlas turned towards him and Wren watched as the arm of it began to lift and aim itself at her teammate.

That was all it took. Wren's biotics flared and time warped around her as she flew across the battlefield and into the unmoving mech. She stumbled slightly when she crashed into the hard surface, causing damage to no one but herself. Recovering quickly however, she wondered what the fuck she was going to do now that she was here. Taking the first stupid option that popped into her head, she grabbed onto the Atlas, and began climbing up the back of it. 

It was easier than it looked, there was plenty of parts to grab onto, and in no time flat she was at the top. Wedging her left foot into a crevice of its armor, and placing her right on the shoulder of the mech, she stood slightly to check her balance. The Cerberus trooper inside the machine seemed surprised when he saw Wren plant the end of her rifle against the glass dome above him.

The first two shots caused him to flinch as they cracked against the glass. Wren watched as he tried to reach for the controls but he wasn't quick enough as the next two shots went through his helmet. Wren began to unload the entire clip in a fit of resentment. The glass shattered and her final shot went wide in surprise, hitting the control panel inside the mech, causing it to spark. 

The Atlas's arms went limp at its sides and the heavy mech collapsed slack. Wren yelled out in pain as the foot that had been wedged in its armor was crushed under the weight of tons of steel. Fire set to the inside of the now broken dome and she gritted her teeth, trying desperately to free herself.

"Major!"

Wren glanced down in front of the Atlas to see Bardonis coming out of his daze and attempting to lift himself to his feet. His arm reached out for her and she did the same, struggling to tear her foot out from under the metal. It was at that moment that the mech groaned in a final protest and exploded.

And everything went black.

...

Wren's eyes opened groggily, but were immediately pulled closed again against her will. Making another attempt, she tried to fight her glued eyelids and was rewarded with bright white light. 

_Am I dead?_

She closed her eyes again and groaned, beginning to feel the throbbing pain in her entire body.

"You're up," a soft, filtered voice said.

The lights dimmed somewhat beneath her lids and Wren opened her eyes a final time to find herself in their ship's med bay. _Oh, not dead then, well good._ She glanced over to see a black environmental suit approaching her. "Maala."

The quarian spoke again, "How are you feeling?"

Wren groaned, "Like I've been hit by a truck." She winced as the quarian helped her sit up slowly. "What happened?" 

Maala let go of her and went to fill a glass of water. "The explosion from the Atlas took down your shields and your foot was in bad shape when we were finally able to move you." She returned to Wren's side, handing her the glass and taking a seat next to her.

Wren took an appreciative sip of water, her throat scratchy and dehydrated. Maala started again, "The salarians were able to patch you up and fix your foot, but you'll probably be sore for a few days still."

Wren paused at her tone. She sounded nervous. Incredibly nervous even. Wren's mind whirled and she felt a bit light-headed as she tried to think of the cause.

She suddenly felt dread, "Bardonis..."

Maala shook her head, putting a hand on Wren's knee, "He's fine, don't worry. He took much less of the explosion that you did and his tech armor and shields took the brunt of it anyways."

Wren was relieved. At least she hadn't gotten him killed with her stunt.

"He's down in the cargo hold fixing your gauntlets if I'm not mistaken. They took some damage," Maala stated, the nervous tone not leaving her voice. Her hands were even wringing together now.

"Maala," Wren said warily, "what is it?"

The quarian stood, and the eyes behind the pale blue glass blinked slowly. She sighed, "The explosion... I'm sorry. I did what I could." 

Wren felt panicked but managed to stay impassive, "Maala, I'm going to need you to spell it out for me." 

The quarian sighed again and fetched a small mirror off of one of the small tables lining the med bay. "Your helmet blew off when the mech exploded. Your shields protected you fairly well and the salarians were able to treat your wounds quickly so there aren't any scars but... your hair..."

She handed the mirror to her and Wren looked at her reflection. Her once long, dark locks were gone. The waves that were left didn't even reach her shoulders. No wonder she felt light-headed.

"Oh," Wren said simply, touching her fingers tentatively to the ends of it.

"I did what I could, but I had to cut most of it off," Maala said regretfully. "I'm sorry."

"No," Wren replied, still shocked at her appearance. She was suddenly reminded of her mother. Louise Blackshaw had always worn her natural hair short like this, and while Wren had admired her for it, she had always wanted longer tresses. Disappointment creeped through her brain sluggishly but she stamped as much of it out as she could. "It's just hair, it'll grow back someday." Running her hand through it, she stared over at her teammate with a sudden surprise, "How did you know you could cut it?"

She couldn't see Maala's expression through the glass but her voice sounded sheepish when she replied, "Quarians are not so different from humans underneath our suits." 

"Huh," Wren said sitting back, placing the mirror on the bed next to her, "I never would have guessed."

Maala nodded and cleared her throat slightly, "Besides, the Black Widow is an Alliance issued sniper rifle."

Wren sifted through her memory groggily for their conversation on Sur'kesh. "Your boyfriend... is Alliance?" she asked. The pieces all fit together suddenly and Wren's jaw dropped slightly. "You're dating a human?"

The quarian nodded again.

Wren chuckled, "Any more surprises you want to throw at me while I'm still sitting here? Perhaps all the Reapers died while I was out and we’ve won the war?"

"Now Major," Maala said teasingly, "you know that would be too easy."

Wren huffed, "Too easy indeed. Shame." She stood and stretched, grimacing faintly at the soreness.

"Try to take it easy the next couple of days and you'll be feeling better soon enough," Maala said, clasping her hands in front of her. Her voice suddenly got strict and a finger pointed accusingly at her, "And no fighting either!"

Wren's eyes widened at the quarian’s never before seen sternness and she saluted, standing taut at attention, "Yes ma'am. Absolutely ma'am."

Maala just shook her head but laughed quietly at Wren's answering wink. Placing a hand on the quarian's shoulder, she looked at her seriously.

"Thank you for taking care of me while I was out. I really appreciate it."

Standing a bit surprised, Maala nodded. "That is what teammates do for one another."

Wren squeezed her hand, and gave a small smile. She left the med bay, stretching out her legs, and went in search of the ship's resident turian.

Bardonis was exactly where Maala said he'd be, in the cargo hold, huddled over her gauntlets with some sort of tool. He glanced up when he heard her enter and his mandibles fluttered. Stopping what he was doing, he set it down and put his attention on her.

“Hey,” Wren said.

“Hey,” he replied.

Wren felt awkward already. She felt her hands begin to flex in nervousness so she placed them on her hips in an effort to physically stop them. She gave a faint smile, “Maala said you’d be down here.”

Bardonis nodded, “Your gauntlets needed some work after that explosion. I was just finishing up the repairs.”

She returned his nod with her own, “I really appreciate that, you didn’t have to.”

The turian looked away, his brow plates pulling down. He stayed silent for a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was low. “You saved my life,” he said, confusion threaded vaguely in his words. “You could have gotten yourself killed…” He trailed off but his gaze made its way back to her face and she cleared her throat sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” she said, meeting his intense eyes as best she could. “Cause if I died, then who’s supposed to watch your six?” Wren felt herself shrugging. 

Bardonis blinked and he opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. This wasn’t going to work. They were a team. He needed to trust her, and she needed to trust him.

“Look, about-"

“I’m sorry if-"

They both stopped at the same time, surprised.

Bardonis gestured to her hesitantly, “Go ahead.”

“You first,” she said.

He let out a faint sigh, but took a seat on one of the cargo crates. “I didn’t mean what I said on Sanctum. Or what I said to you when we were sparring. I-" he stopped, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He shook his head and started again, “I was… angry. When we found those plans, I blamed humanity for keeping them secret. I should have been blaming Cerberus.” 

He paused again and Wren felt her chest tighten. Using his moment of silence as an opportunity, she took her hands off her hips and went to sit on a crate next to him.

His dual-toned voice was low when spoke again, “I was a part of Blackwatch before this mission. It’s basically turian special ops. When the Reapers hit my home world, I was halfway across the continent from my family. My parents, my younger sister and her husband, their two children, my brother… They were all killed. And the first thing the Primarch did was pull Blackwatch off of Palaven to put us in ‘less hopeless situations’ across the galaxy. I had to sit on a shuttle and watch as my home, my family, burned to the ground.”

Wren’s stomach twisted and she gripped the edge of the cargo crate harder at every word he said. He had been mourning and she had overlooked the pain she’d seen because of her blind fury.

He sounded as ashamed as she felt when he said, “I had lost my whole family and I took it out on you because you were human and it was so much easier to blame something familiar than it was to blame something like the Reapers, something we don’t even understand.” He shook his head, “It was wrong, and I apologize. I regret what I said. It wasn’t true, and you were right, humans and the Alliance are out there spilling blood just like turians. Like everyone else.”

Bardonis finally looked at her, his mandibles drooped low, “I am sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have challenged you to fight,” Wren said, clutching the crate tightly. “I could tell something was wrong and I tried to pretend it was just xenophobia but I got defensive and prideful. I could have handled it differently, but I chose to fight because I was pissed.” She sighed slightly, “So, I’m sorry too.”

He blinked and turned away slightly, “You didn’t know.”

“I had a pretty good idea.”

They sat quietly for moment. Wren watched him and asked, “Something changed, after we fought, what was it?”

“I got a call,” Bardonis replied, “from my brother Maquin, who I thought was dead. Communications have been spotty since the war started but he finally got through to me. I thought he had been on Palaven but he said he was on Menae, serving under General Corinthus. It was a relief to hear his voice again.” He gave a small smile, and Wren returned it. She knew how hard it was to get ahold of people nowadays. She had barely been able to talk to her own family since it had all begun.

“I’m glad he’s okay,” Wren said genuinely.

“Yeah,” Bardonis agreed, “me too.”

A silence fell over them and although it wasn’t quite companionable, it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Bardonis picked up one of her gauntlets and looked it over once, handing it to her when he was satisfied with what he saw. 

Wren grabbed it, “Are these going to work or am I going to be forced to make a highly dramatic and passionate display when they don’t?”

His mandibles flew wide in a grin and he chuckled, “They’ll work. Although I’d prefer you didn’t test them out on me.”

Wren laughed, and returned his smile.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, really sorry about the wait on this one :( Had so much going on, Valentine's Day, and then my birthday was just a few days after that, and I still hadn't quite gotten it where I wanted it so once again, I apologize. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed reading it! This chapter was pretty long compared to the others but there were some important things I wanted to get in there and have set up for upcoming chapters and all that so if it was a little lengthy, it's because I didn't want to rush it too much.
> 
> ALSO, as a side note, if you happen to be replaying Mass Effect 3, you briefly see Bardonis's brother, Maquin Tobestik on Menae! He's there when you meet General Corinthus so if you'd like a look at our resident turian's colony markings on his younger brother, check out this quick scene! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4g_pkbGu6Q (IN 4K EVEN!)
> 
> Thanks again for reading, I appreciate it :)


	6. Wonderwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Wonderwall, the Ryan Adams version.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gVxRvNfFLg
> 
> This is absolutely my all time favorite cover of this song. I think it's beautiful and poignant. It definitely helped me set the scene for this whole chapter so, I hope you enjoy!

The docks on the Citadel were even more packed than the last time Wren had seen them. Refugees from all over the galaxy had poured in, hoping for shelter and safety. They brought hardly anything with them but the little space that was left was filling up quickly anyways. It seemed to mostly be humans, turians, and batarians from what she could tell. Thessia and Sur’kesh hadn’t been hit by the Reapers yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time until the asari and salarians joined the rest of them.

The team had landed on the Citadel for a few hours to fuel up and restock on rations and supplies. “I’ll make sure our stuff makes it on to the ship. Everyone, you’ve got about six hours to do whatever you want. Meet back up here at 1800,” Telera had said. Pointedly, she had glared at Warg and said, “Don’t make me come look for you.”

Warg had grinned and ambled on his way, heading towards the nearest bar if Wren had to guess. The rest of the team had all gone their separate directions and Wren was left standing, wondering what to spend her free time doing. She could go back to her apartment, but she didn’t consider it home and couldn’t imagine just sitting around for six hours. She could go get drunk with Warg, but the krogan was liable to start a fight with someone just for fun, and Wren couldn’t say she found that appealing either.

It had taken about five minutes before Wren decided to just spend her few hours helping out in any way she could. She had headed down to the lower docks, approached the first C-Sec officer she had seen, and asked if there was anything she could assist them with. The dark haired human looked beat and had opened her eyes vaguely in surprise at the question, but had given Wren some direction anyways. “We can use all the help we can get,” she had said.

Soon, Wren found herself wandering amongst the refugees. A damp chill hung tiredly in the air on the docks, matched by the emotions on the people around her. She handed out blankets, rations. She consoled the weary as much as she could, and offered to listen to those standing by themselves at the Memorial Wall. Most of the people were drained but grateful. She had only received a dirty look once, from a batarian, who spat at her, saying he didn’t want her help. But a second batarian scolded him and thanked her for what little she could give them. No one else gave her any trouble after that.

The C-Sec officer had given her a box of medi-gel packages, saying they needed to go over to the docking bay holding the majority of the turian refugees. Wren nodded and headed that direction. She felt slightly nervous at the thought of being the only human in a roomful of turians but scolded herself the second she realized that’s where her train of thought was headed. She didn’t need to be afraid of turians, they weren’t the enemy. If she wanted to get over her apprehension of aliens, proximity was the solution, not the problem.

Upon entering the small bay, the pained keen of a turian reached her ears. Many of the refugees here were hurt or trying to get what little amount of sleep they could. But there was a bustling of frantic movement in the back corner. Two turians, one dressed in the typical white and gray Huerta garb, the other in civvies, attempted to grab onto a third turian laying on a cot.

“Hold him down!” the Huerta turian voiced.

“I’m trying!” the other anxiously replied.

The turian on the cot looked incredibly young, much smaller than the other two. His blue eyes wildly glanced around and his arms lashed out at the two turians grappling with him.

“I can’t apply the anesthetic with him thrashing around like that, hold him down!”

Wren rushed over, placing the box of medi-gel supplies on the ground. She pushed her sleeves up and grabbed onto the flailing arm closest to her. Pinning it to the cot, she used all of her weight against him, and held it down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see both turians do a double take at her presence. She paid them no mind however because the kid on the cot in front of her was scared, and his panicked eyes locked onto hers as he cried out in pain.

Grabbing ahold of his hand and squeezing as hard as she could she said, “You’re going to be fine.”

The Huerta medic took his chance and stuck the anesthetic against the young turian’s unplated neck. Wren continued to hold his gaze and keep an iron grip on his hand as he slowly began to fade out of consciousness. His eyes fell shut and his limbs went slack when the sedative took full effect.

Wren’s brows pulled together and she cursed the Reapers for creating the kind of clusterfuck that hurt kids. She rubbed a thumb over the turian’s hand before letting go, shaking her head. Glancing up, she saw the medic watching her curiously. “Thank you for helping,” he said.

She pushed her short locks behind her ears as much as she could, still not used to the length. Shaking her head, Wren replied, “You don’t need to thank me, he seemed like he was in a lot of pain.” She turned around and picked up the small box of medi-gel. “Think these are for you, doc.”

He took the supplies from her eagerly, “Thank the Spirits. We’re barely getting by at the hospital, let alone down here on the docks.” He placed them on a nearby crate and opened up his omni-tool, checking the kid turian’s life signs.

“He going to be okay?” Wren said, gesturing towards the cot.

The doctor’s mandibles fluttered, and he looked at her again. The neon sapphire markings on his brow plates rose slightly as he spoke, “He has a pretty serious infection and fever right now, but we should be able to get it down with the right treatment. He’ll be okay.”

Wren let out a huff of air, shaking her head, “Jesus, he’s just a kid.”

“It was good of you to step in,” he said, staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite distinguish. “A lot of these people are barely holding their own. And Huerta Memorial is filled up so it’s hard to get doctors and nurses to other places on the Citadel.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help. I’m only sorry he was in that much pain.”

He continued to regard her with interest as he turned completely to look at Wren, “I’ve noticed you down here the past couple of hours, but you don’t look like a refugee or C-Sec.”

She gave a small smile, “I’m not. My team and I have a few hours of shore leave and I’m just trying to help out in whatever way I can.”

“Really?” he said, dual-tones surprised. “Not many people would do that.”

She shrugged, “It’s not much, but I wanted to do something useful.”

The turian gave a wide grin, “No, that’s commendable of you. It’s honorable to serve, especially to help those less fortunate.” Wren returned his smile and he stuck his arm out, “I’m Rorik, by the way.”

“Wren,” she replied, not hesitating to shake his outstretched hand.

His mandibles flickered against his jaws and he tilted his head a bit, humming slightly. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Major,” a voice behind her said. Wren turned around to see Bardonis standing in the entrance. He was holding two large boxes of bandages as he glanced between her and the medic. “I didn’t expect to see you down here."

“Great minds think alike I guess,” she said, smirking. She pointed to the supplies in his arms, “You want help with those?”

He took another glance at the turian standing next to her before giving her a soft smile, “Sure.”

Wren nodded and turned back around. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for the kid.”

“I will,” the medic stated.

“It was nice to meet you Rorik,” she said, dipping her head at him.

“And you as well, Wren,” he replied, his gaze sliding from Bardonis back to her. His mandibles snapped softly, and he gave her a final smile.

Wren took her leave and lifted one of the crates out of her teammate’s arms. Falling in stride with him, she followed him around the corner to an empty bench and they both sat down. They worked silently, separating the bandages, and rewrapping the ones that had come loose. Wren got about a third of the way through her own box when Bardonis broke the silence.

“That turian was flirting with you, you know.”

Wren sputtered, her eyes going wide, “What?”

Bardonis chuckled, seemingly pleased at having caught her off guard.

Feeling her cheeks and neck blush hard, she replied, “He was just being nice because I helped out.”

“His sub vocals were practically screaming his attraction for you,” Bardonis responded amused.

“I don’t even know what a sub vocal is,” Wren lied. She knew that turians’ dual-toned voices often conveyed more emotion and meaning to those who could hear it. But she was a human, who had practically no experience with other species, especially turians.

Bardonis’s chest rumbled and laughed again. Had Rorik been flirting with her? She had just been trying to be useful. She had even been nervous to do so. Wren shook her head, “I was just trying to help out.”

“Yes, without being asked to. You offered your help to a group of turians who needed it, just because, even though you’re a human,” Bardonis said.

She didn’t mean to, but she bristled slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bardonis froze for a second but composed himself quickly. He set down the bandages that were in his hand and turned towards her, giving her his full attention. “I didn’t mean that in a negative way. But you have to understand, most humans are still either afraid of or dislike turians. For you to just help them because you have free time on your hands, it’s unexpected, and significant in our culture.”

“Oh,” Wren said dumbly. Her hands had stopped their movements as well, and they sat there silently for a second. Her brow furrowed, “I’m not going to give myself a pat on the back just for helping someone who is a different species than me.”

He shook his head, “And a turian won’t do that either, but just understand he was definitely flirting with you because of it. Turians hold honor, duty, and selflessness above all else. Seeing it in another species is cause for attention.”

She said nothing. Bardonis turned back to his work and Wren did too. She had a few more bandages rewrapped when he spoke up again, a smile in his voice, “He was undoubtedly about to ask you out before I interrupted.” Wren sighed, realizing he was entirely entertained by this whole thing.

“I don’t even have any clothes to wear out on a date,” she retorted, attempting to change the subject.

“He’d probably find that quite agreeable.”

“Bardonis!” she chastised, whipping her head up to glare at him.

His rich laughter caused his shoulders to shake and he gave her a wide smile. Wren did her best to look serious but it didn’t last long and she looked away as she felt her mouth pull into a grin. The two continued to work and eventually Bardonis said, “He was correct though.”

“About what?” she asked.

“That it is commendable you’re down here helping these people. They don’t have much, and you could have done anything with your shore leave. Who knows when we will have the chance again, and yet you chose to volunteer and give your energy to the refugees here,” he answered.

Wren shrugged, “It’s the right thing to do.”

Bardonis nodded. “Yeah,” he said simply.

…

“Alright,” Wren said, her teeth buzzing from the alcohol, “I gotta ask. What does ‘Viseka’s Gift’ mean anyways?”

Warg had won two barrels of alcohol in a card game on the Citadel. Or that’s what he’d told them anyways. A barrel of ryncol, and a barrel of asari honey mead. So, a couple of days later when they had a little extra time after a mission, the team had decided to indulge. And by the team, she meant her, Warg, and Telera cause they were the only ones who could drink the stuff.

The lights of the ship had dimmed for the night cycle, and everyone else had gone to bed a little while ago. The three of them had ended up in the CIC, all sitting at the round table in the center of the room. Telera and Warg both had cigars hanging lazily from their mouths as they conversed. Telera ashed hers and replied, “It’s a plant, native to Thessia, the asari home world. It’s similar to those old paper lanterns humans light on Earth, with the exception that the bulbs in it glow blue, and naturally.” Her words were slurred slightly and Wren was glad she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the honey mead.

“Our ship is named after a flower?” Warg asked, somehow managing to be incredulous and uninterested at the same time.

Telera’s eyes narrowed, her crimson tattoos moving sluggishly with them. “First of all,” she said, pointing her cigar accusingly at him, “it’s not just any flower, and second of all, when you get your own ship, you can name it whatever the hell you want.”

Warg chuckled and blew smoke towards her.

“A flower though?” Wren asked, swirling her mead in its glass. The gilded liquid spun slowly, inviting her to take another drink. So she did.

“Like I said, not just any flower.” Telera took a swig of her own and gave a sly smile. “Legend has it-“

“Oh, here she goes,” Warg said, rolling his smelted gold eyes.

“Shut up, Warg.” Telera looked back at Wren again, “Legend has it that Viseka, the goddess of the sea, and Janama, a simple but talented sailor, were lovers. Viseka swore to never be tamed by any asari, and would often times throw storms and rough tides at all seafarers, especially Janama. But Janama always overcame any challenge Viseka threw at her, and eventually, it became a dance between the two of them.”

The asari paused for dramatic effect, taking another long drink. “One evening, Viseka unknowingly put Janama in harm’s way by sending her crashing into another sea. Janama did her best to try and escape, but the other sea was too strong. So, Viseka pleaded to the neighboring water, asking that if her lover could not be spared, that Janama at least be granted a quick death.”

Wren felt herself listening raptly. Partly because of the alcohol and partly because Telera’s voice was so easy to fall into. Even Warg, who mocked her relentlessly for her storytelling, had gone silent as the asari spun the tale.

“The other sea opened up to Viseka, hearing the desperation in her voice. And it was at that moment that the goddess struck. She sent a bolt of lightning hurtling into the other sea, using as much of her power as she could. The neighboring water became angry, and it tried to take Janama down into its crushing depths, but the sailor had already taken her chance, and had gotten away.” Telera puffed on her cigar, the pale glow lighting up her mischievous eyes. “After that, Viseka created the glowing lanterns that scatter the shores of Thessia so she could guide her lover to safe harbor, even on the darkest of nights. Hence the name, Viseka’s Gift.”

Wren and Warg sat silently for a moment. She glanced over at the big krogan who narrowed his eyes dubiously, “You’re making this up.”

Telera threw her arms up and looked at him seriously, “Would I lie to you?”

“So, we’re the light… giving safe harbor in the dark? Out here,” Wren said, gesturing to nothing in particular, “in the stars.”

Telera gave a crooked grin, her broken nose scrunching slightly in pride, “See Warg, she gets it.”

Wren smiled, pleased at having understood the moral of the story. Sort of. _Was there a moral to the story?_

She’d had too much to drink.

She finished what was left in her glass, feeling the warm burn in her chest. Attempting to stand up out of her chair, Wren did her best not to stagger to the floor. “I think it’s bedtime for this human,” she stated, pointing both thumbs to herself. Because she needed to be more specific.

“Aw, come on Blackshaw,” Warg laughed, “We were just getting started! Somebody has to drink Telera under the table!”

Wren shook her head and immediately regretted it, barely keeping her equilibrium in check. “Nope,” she said, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “We’ve been drinking for forever. Time for me to check out.”

Telera smiled languidly and sat back, apparently determined not to be outlasted by the big oaf of a krogan next to her. “Goodnight Wren, see you in the morning.”

Wren attempted to wink, but her other eye kind of went along with it, and they both ended up closed at different intervals. She took it as the official sign of her drunkenness and headed off down the stairs.

She made it all the way down, only stumbling twice along the way. She rounded the corner just in time to practically run into a sleepy Bardonis. The tall turian grabbed onto her arm and held her steady before her legs had the chance to send her to the floor. Wren snickered, “Whoops.”

Bardonis held a glass of water in one hand, and her arm in the other as he regarded her with a smile. The pajama pants he wore loosely around his waist were the same white as his colony markings, and he was wearing the turian equivalent of an oversized t-shirt. She’d never seen a turian in a t-shirt before, but it looked nice on him if she had to decide. “Fun night?” he asked, his eyes looking at her with mirth as she swayed. 

Wren nodded, decided she didn’t like the dizziness that accompanied it, and opted to just say, “Yes.”

He chuckled quietly, “Trying to get to bed?”

“That was the plan,” she replied, blinking slowly.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“It’s okay, I got it,” she slurred, taking about one step forward before she stumbled again.

His chest hummed in amusement and she was still close enough that she could feel it rumble through him. He felt incredibly warm next to her, running a few degrees hotter than herself. Keeping his arm under hers, he guided her to the women’s crew quarters. The door swished open softly, and he leaned down. “Which one is yours?” he whispered softly.

“Closest to the door,” she said, her tone a few notches louder than his. Bardonis smothered his laughter and shushed her when Maala stirred on the other side of the room.

Reaching the bed, Wren dumped herself unceremoniously into it. Bardonis set the glass of water on the small table next to her cot, “Here, you’ll probably need this later.”

“Isn’t that yours?” she questioned, concerned. 

In the dim light, she could still see him smile, “I’ll get another one. Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling her blankets up around her. “Thanks for helping.”

He was already turning to leave as he said, “Goodnight Major.”

“G’night Bard,” she replied, her eyes closing against her will.

Wren dreamed of a ship with sails crashing against the sea that night. And a pale blue light in the distance, guiding her home.

…

Hitting the seals on her armor, Wren sighed in relief at finally getting out of her N7 equipment. Her gauntlets slid off of her arms and she placed them inside of her locker with her rifle. The black chest piece came loose and the photograph she kept with her fluttered to the floor. Standing in her undersuit and greaves, she decided to take a seat on the bench the team had put in front of the armory.

She picked up the photograph and thumbed the edges of it carefully. After breaking the frame in her sleep, Wren had decided to bring the photo with her on missions. She tried to tell herself it was for luck but mostly it was because she was afraid she’d never see them again with the war going on.

_Fucking Reapers._

A shuffle caused her to look up and she watched as Bardonis came and sat down next to her, placing his armor in his own locker. She turned back to the photograph in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance down at it as he shut the locker door. 

“Your family?” he asked.

Wren nodded, handing him the picture. He took it gently between two gloved talons and cradled it carefully as his eyes scanned it. Pointing to the smiling woman with dark olive skin, and short brown curls, she said, “That’s my mother, Louise.” Gesturing to the tall red haired man holding her hand, she continued, “And my father, Logan.”

“You look a lot like her,” Bardonis said softly, giving a faint smile.

“Especially now with my hair short,” Wren replied, pushing a hand through her tresses. The young boy in the picture was practically the spitting image of her father, and she pointed to the shit-eating grin he had on his face, “That’s my younger brother, Connor. He just turned sixteen a few months ago.”

“And the baby?”

Wren smiled fondly, “My little sister, Henley.”

Bardonis chuffed and glanced at the photo once more. “You look so young,” he mentioned.

“That picture was taken a little over nine years ago, right before I enlisted. It was also before my parents found out my plan to join the Alliance. I can tell because they look insanely happy in that picture,” she replied, chuckling slightly.

The turian looked at her, eyes wide, “They didn’t know you were going to join?”

Wren laughed, “They wouldn’t have approved. Not that they thought service was bad, just that they were always worried about me. Both of my parents are civilians. My mother is an architectural engineer and my father is a chef who manages his own bar and restaurant.”

He paused before asking, “If your parents are civilians, what made you join the Alliance?”

She took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she’d ever talked about her youth. She chewed the inside of her cheek before responding. “I was seventeen when the Skyllian Blitz happened. I had no direction, no idea what I wanted to do, all I knew was that I wanted to help. So, I joined the Alliance, much to the dismay of my parents.”

Bardonis hummed, almost understandingly. She shrugged. “It wasn’t like I didn’t know anyone with military experience. My grandfather served as well, but…” she trailed off.

“But?” he questioned.

She glanced at him sheepishly, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved my grandpa but… he was kind of a racist bastard.” Bardonis tilted his head at that and she continued, “He… fought in the First Contact War.”

“Ah,” he said, definitely understandingly. 

Wren shook her head, “I don’t know, just… the way he would about talk about aliens, especially turians…” She felt Bardonis’s intense gaze on her and she found it hard to meet. She sighed, and continued on, “He was very pro-human. When I was a kid growing up, the turians were always kind of this… boogeyman that my grandparents would whisper about seriously in the evenings. And my parents were very much against that. Still are.”

She remembered the angry teenager she had been growing up. “My parents did their best to teach me that, but my grandfather always seemed so convinced, and then the Skyllian Blitz happened with the batarians…” She felt a small amount of shame telling this to Bardonis. Would he think her lesser for it?

“When I joined, I thought I’d be out there fighting batarians and turians,” she admitted. “More often than not, we were just trying to keep humans safe from other humans.” Wren shrugged before saying, “It took me a couple of years to realize how wrong my grandfather was, but every once in a while I still catch myself thinking things that are unfair. I’m working on it though,” she said quietly.

“Me too,” he said to her surprise, handing the picture back to her. “Those experiences can shape us. It can take a long time for us to unlearn things like that.”

She smiled sheepishly, and he returned it.

Wren took in a deep breath. “What about you?” she asked, attempting to get the attention off of her. “Why’d you join the military?”

Bardonis shrugged, a very human gesture, and responded, “Just like you. I wanted to help people. Although, with turians it’s a little bit different. We have mandatory military service once we hit a certain age and then afterwards, most just continue serving. It’s not required of course, that you do stay, but it’s usually expected.”

“Is it really that rare if a turian doesn’t stay in the military?”

He blinked and looked at his hands, wringing them together. “The only one of my siblings who didn’t continue after mandatory service was my younger sister.”

Wren stilled and looked at him, unsure of whether to continue to ask questions or to leave it at that. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through but she had seen it. Would it be too personal to ask? They were teammates. Comrades, at the very least. Possibly even friends. But it was a fragile thing, and she didn’t want a repeat of their fight in the cargo hold.

He had just opened up about his sister though. _Ask._

“What was she like?” Wren said cautiously. 

Bardonis looked up at her, a bit dazed. He blinked it away though and even though he gave a smile, his eyes looked quite pained. “She was strong. Just like our mother.” He paused, clearing his throat, and Wren listened intently. 

“There were four of us,” he said. “I was the oldest, then my brother Telius, my sister Caera, and finally my youngest brother Maquin, the one I told you about.”

Wren nodded, staying silent so he could continue.

“Telius was a bit of a hot head, but he was passionate about everything. Always talked with his hands when he really got going about something. He liked to tell stories,” he said fondly. His words were raw with emotion and his head hung low with every sentence. “Caera was incredibly kind, and wise. She was quiet and soft-spoken but she always knew what to say when things got tough. Her children, my nephews, would have grown up with good hearts.” His dual-toned voice choked faintly and his mandibles were tight against his face.

In their time on and off the battlefield, she had come to the conclusion that Bardonis was strong. A warrior. But he had also shown humility, wit, kindness. And under all of that, grief. This wasn’t the cold turian she had made assumptions about not so long ago. Looking at him now, she felt like she was back on the docks of the Citadel, staring into the eyes of some scared turian kid. 

She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. The faint warmth could be felt even through his shirt and she squeezed, doing her best to be a solid presence. When he lifted his head, he brought in a deep breath, finding his composure. Wren let go and her hand fell back into her lap.

“Maquin,” he started, “is a lot like our sister. He’s quiet and kind. I don’t think he truly desired to stay with the military but he wanted to make our parents proud.”

Wren kept her voice as neutral as she could, “Have you talked to him since he got ahold of you?”

“Just a few messages back and forth,” Bardonis replied. “The base on Menae is supposed to be a flanking position against the Reapers on Palaven so he doesn’t get much free time. But he’s still alive, so that’s enough.”

She nodded in assent. Wren couldn’t imagine what he was going through. To lose almost his entire family in the blink of an eye like that? There was truly nothing she could say that would make it better so she simply settled for, “I’m sorry, Bardonis.”

He blinked at her, his pale amber eyes focusing on her once again. “They won’t ever be forgotten,” he said. Mostly for his benefit, she figured.

_Fucking Reapers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's no 'action' sequence here. I don't want all of my chapters to be just combat, I wanted some character interactions and important info in this one so fighting took a backseat in the chapter. Thank you all so much for reading, I appreciate the feedback you guys have so graciously given, and I'm happy to continue to share this story with you all :) Hope you enjoyed!


	7. If I Had A Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually the inspiration for this whole fic and I absolutely knew when I first started this whole thing that I would use this song for these scenes. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Firebase: Ghost (Hazard)
> 
> If I Had A Heart by Fever Ray:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuSzQCLjf0A

It was raining.

Which wasn't something that would normally bother Wren. She enjoyed the soft pattering of rainfall and the faint rumble of thunder. It was soothing. On Bekenstein, whenever it stormed, she would open her bedroom windows and fall asleep to the sound of it.

But on Benning, the drops that fell from the sickly green clouds overhead were toxic. They could take your shields out, leaving you vulnerable. It was fortunate that shields were the only thing it could affect, otherwise it would have made things a lot more difficult.

The acid rain had been on and off all evening, so the team had spent most the night inside the bunkers scattered across the slums. Civilians here had organized a resistance and called for help to get evacuated. So, help had arrived as a multi-racial misfit group, armed to the teeth, and ready for whatever got thrown at them.

Except for the rain. Apparently.

"Combes and Hackett said that Cerberus had been here?" Maala questioned, glancing over at Wren and Bardonis. Her hands scrolled through one of the electronic interfaces, looking for intel.

"Yeah, bastards," Wren replied. The three of them sat in the largest bunker in the middle of the base, going through several of the terminals that had been left behind. "I guess they were taking the civilians here, although I don't know what for."

Telera's voice came through the comms, "Obviously they got chased off. We've been fighting Reaper forces all night."

"Reapers saw their opportunity to move in and took it," Velon stated, his tone matter-of-fact. 

"Yeah, but the Reapers moving in makes sense," Bardonis said. His flanged voice sounded troubled and Wren watched him as he shook his head, confused. "What would Cerberus want with civilians?"

“Conversion, maybe?” Telera suggested.

"Who knows. Cerberus has always been the biggest, collective group of assholes since they got their start," Wren replied, frowning in annoyance. "A few years ago, I read reports that they were connected to a string of Alliance murders. They even killed an Admiral to keep it silent." 

"An Alliance Admiral? Guess they're not so pro-human after all," Warg said through their earpieces.

"Nope," Wren said simply.

She remembered the arguments she’d had with her grandfather when he was still alive. They’d both gone to Admiral Kahoku’s funeral. Pop had known him. Was friends with him, even. But he was so stuck in his ways that he couldn’t see the truth. 

_Wren’s dress blues felt heavy against her skin and she tugged at the bottom of her jacket uncomfortably as they walked out. Funerals were the worst. She glanced over at her grandfather. His face sat in a permanent grimace most days, and today wasn’t any different. She didn’t blame him._

_“I’m sorry about Admiral Kahoku, pop. I know you two used to be close.”_

_They walked side by side, but the aura associated with her grandfather always managed to make her feel inferior to him. He was no nonsense, business always, shoot first ask questions later. He stood with his head high, and although he never acted like he had something to prove, he was always convinced his way was the only way._

_“He was a good man,” her grandfather said vaguely. “We were in the same battalion when the turians tried to destroy our race. And he fought with honor against the batarians in the Skyllian Blitz.” His frown grew deeper, “I can’t believe they let aliens into his funeral. What a disgrace to his memory.”_

_Wren faltered, falling out of step with him. He continued onward though, disregarding that she’d come to a stop. She took a few jogging steps to catch up with him and replied, “Those were his friends. They just came to pay their respects.”_

_While she herself didn’t have any friends who were aliens, she knew people that did. They seemed to enjoy their company as much as their human friends._

_“Human beings are the only ones capable of honesty and true friendship,” he said severely._

_Wren let a long pause pass before she spoke up, trying to keep her voice calm, “Pop… you know he was killed by a human terrorist group, right?”_

_“Nonsense.”_

_“You read the Alliance reports, didn’t you? He was found tortured to death in a Cerberus facility, they-“_

_“Enough!” he interrupted, coming to a halt._

_She stumbled to a stop next to him, straightening at his tone. Clasping her hands together, she tried to make herself stand tall._

_He always stood taller._

_Her jaw clenched as he stared down at her. She must not have looked as steady as she’d hoped, because his eyes tempered when they met hers. He gave a long sigh, and pulled her into a hug. “Wren, baby, you are strong and have a good heart. But you have to remember,” he said, drawing back and staring at her, “you can’t trust them. Aliens will do everything they can to undermine human success. Yours. Mine. Kahoku’s. They are not friends to humanity.” He embraced her once more and she sighed. She didn’t agree with him. But he was her grandfather, so she hugged him back anyways._

"Maala," Velon’s voice came through her earpiece, startling Wren from her memories, "come take a look at this encryption."

The quarian stepped away from the terminal she had been working on, and hurried over to the bunker Velon and Telera had holed up in. Wren attempted to shake away the memory. She stared out one of the open windows and watched as the rain picked up its pace. Scattered drops hit the tin shelters with increasing velocity, and a clap of thunder sounded overhead. She stuck a hand out and watched as a few drops hissed against her shields, causing them to flicker around her arm.

"’Storms make the oak grow deeper roots’," she quoted softly, bringing her hand back in and shaking off the water. Wren turned back around to see Bardonis looking at her intensely. The honey yellow of his eyes were bright in the lifeless olive glow that shrouded the entire area as it stormed.

"What? What is it?" she asked, concerned. She fidgeted under his gaze but took a step forward.

“You looked really far away there for a second…” he replied. Bardonis reached up to silence his comms before saying, "I just want to apologize again for lumping you in the same group as Cerberus. I didn't-"

"-Bard," she cut him off, putting a hand up but softening at his admission. _He thought you were thinking about your fight._ "It's... we're good." She nodded as she said it, attempting to make him believe it as much as she did. Wren gave him a smile and he apparently accepted the answer she offered because he returned her faint grin with his own. Another thunderclap crashed above them, making the ground shake, and Wren glanced out the windows again.

Warg ambled outside, his heavy boots echoing across the empty slums. Water dripped down his plate and armor, and his eyes watched for incoming enemies. His shields tried their best to regenerate but they couldn’t keep up with the deluge that poured down from the sky.

“How’s that rain treating you out there, Warg?” Wren asked, amused.

The colossal krogan looked in at her and smiled, “It’s raining?” He glanced up at the sky with false confusion, pretending to be unaffected by such trivial weather patterns.

Wren rolled her eyes and turned away as he laughed. Approaching the many terminals surrounding the turian, she took a seat on the table next to Bardonis. The screens flickered with information but none of it meant anything to her. She watched him as he worked, his gloves thumbing through lines of code. He cleared his throat eventually and looked at her again, asking, “What was that quote you said a little bit ago?”

“’Storms make the oaks grow deeper roots’?” she repeated. Bardonis nodded and she explained, “It was something my grandfather used to say.”

“What’s it mean?”

She scoffed. “Well, he’d usually try to use it to explain how everyone was out to get humanity, and that somehow, that adversity was proof that humans were the best and yada yada.” She waved her hand at it, “It was mostly bullshit.”

“You disagreed?” Bardonis assumed.

“I did,” she replied. Wren considered it for a moment and then continued, “I believed the quote was more about personal growth and less about the ‘us and them’ mentality.”

She figured that was enough of an explanation but Bardonis prodded her for more, “Why did you interpret it that way?”

Wren squirmed but answered anyways, “I’ve… always found that the adversity we wage within ourselves is often more difficult than that which we wage against others.”

Bardonis regarded her curiously, but gave an understanding smile at her answer. He opened his mouth to say something but Warg’s yell boomed across the shelters before he could.

“Reaper forces, inbound!”

And with that, the conversation came to an end.

…

The team had managed to line up their schedules just right to be able to all have dinner in the mess hall together. It was largely at Telera’s insistence but it was a rare occasion, and Wren had to admit, she enjoyed being able to talk to everyone without the threat of being shot. 

Her short hair was still wet from the shower she had just taken. Her sparring sessions with Velon were good practice and she was getting better every day. Squeezing the ends of her curls as she entered the ship’s small mess hall, the team’s infiltrator handed her a bottle of water and gave a smile.

“Good work today. Left side no longer vulnerable,” he said, grinning in approval.

“What can I say? I have a good teacher,” she replied, returning his smirk.

Velon gave a bow, “I’m always happy to be of service.”

Wren laughed and joined Maala at the small kitchenette across the room, who was looking a bit overwhelmed. Her shoulders were slumped in discontent as Wren approached. “Need any help?” she asked, staring at the assortment the quarian had spread out. It seemed to be a mixture of rations and actual food.

“It’s not much,” Maala said, her bright eyes blinking in disappointment through her mask.

“It’s enough for us,” Wren responded, placing her hand on Maala’s back. “Besides,” she said, raising her voice louder so the rest of the team could hear, “we don’t want Warg getting fatter than he already is.”

Warg didn’t even turn around to address her as he let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve got a quad on you, Blackshaw.”

She simply smiled and watched as the quarian’s shoulders straightened a bit and she let out a soft laugh at Warg. “Here,” Maala said, handing her some of the rations, “help me carry these to the table.”

Wren obliged and went to setting out everyone’s food with her teammate. She handed Telera food similar to her own. Placing a glass of hot tea in front of Bardonis, she received a grateful smile and a nod. And she positioned a large plate of… something, in front of Warg. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it could have been meat? Maybe?

She shook her head and shivered slightly.

Maala must have felt the same way because once she was seated, she watched as Warg popped a piece into his mouth and shuddered. “How can you even eat that?” she asked.

Warg shrugged. “Most krogan food is based on a dare.”

“It looks like varren intestines.”

He shook his head, “Those aren’t nearly as good as this.”

Sitting down next to Telera, Wren felt her mouth pull into a smirk watching her entire team around the table. In the Alliance, there had always been camaraderie, a sense of mutual support. When Hackett and Combes had first asked her to join Hammer, she’d figured there would be none of that amongst a team with multiple species. They had completely different beliefs, different food, different lives. Hell, not a single one of them had the same DNA. Wren was happy she had been completely wrong.

The each ate slowly, content to throw jibes at one another and have conversation. Content to not think about the war raging out in the galaxy as they headed to their next mission. It loomed over them silently as they talked, but they did their best not to discuss it as they all sat together.

“What did everyone do before this?” Maala asked, glancing at each of them.

Wren answered first, attempting to keep things light. “You guys already know I was in the Alliance. Mostly bounced around postings over the years.”

Velon’s arms were crossed over his chest but he placed a finger on his chin as he spoke. “Salarian Special Tasks Group kept me busy for a long time. I also taught combat at a few universities because of experience.”

Telera kicked back and put her hands behind her head, relaxing her arms out above her. “Which century do you want me to talk about?” Telera laughed, her smile lighting up her handsome features.

Wren narrowed her eyes and smirked at her, “I think you should talk about your mer-“

“I was a commando mostly,” Telera interrupted, smiling as she did so.

Wren laughed and caught Bardonis’s gaze. He smiled and turned back towards Maala, answering her question, “After mandatory service, I signed back on. My superiors suggested they put me in Blackwatch because of my biotics.”

“Not many of you out there?” Wren asked curiously.

Bardonis shook his head, “Biotics are rare in turians. Our military usually sends us to specialized groups, such as Blackwatch, or the cabals.”

Maala nodded and turned to the krogan next to her, “Warg?”

He put another piece of mystery meat into his mouth and swallowed. “I was an officer for Clan Urdnot in the Krogan First Division.”

“Ah, yes. I had heard something about this,” Velon said.

Warg grunted in affirmation, “After the Reapers tried to invade the first time, Urdnot Wrex left the Normandy and came back to Tuchanka. He landed himself as Clan Leader and eventually threw together the Krogan First Division with the help of the other krogan.” He paused as he took a drink from his large mug. “It’s divided by clan, with representatives from each serving as officers.”

Telera lifted her chin towards the quarian, “What about you, Maala?”

“I was a weapons expert in the Quarian Heavy Fleet. My specialty was long range armaments,” she replied.

“You don’t say?” Bardonis teased.

Maala laughed quietly. The quarian ran her finger in small circles across the faint grey swirls on her environmental suit. “What’s everyone going to do after this?” The table fell into solemn silence.

Now they had crossed into gloomy territory. Nobody had time to think about after the war. They barely had time to think about their next mission. Wren crossed her arms over her chest and chewed the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t even sure she’d see tomorrow. They had no way of knowing what was going to happen.

Velon broke the depressing quiet first, “Perhaps… I will continue to teach on Sur’kesh.” This was the first time she had ever seen him look unsure of something, and it made her heart tighten at the salarian’s disclosure.

“Something where I don’t get shot at,” Telera figured, nodding her head affirmatively. 

Warg kept his voice low, “Something where I do get shot at.”

Maala let out a single ‘ha’ and her glowing eyes blinked slowly behind the glass, “Build a home with Johnathan.”

Bardonis seemed lost in thought as his finger ran along the edge of his cup, the tea now having gone cold. Wren caught his gaze briefly before he replied, “Rebuild Palaven.”

She realized she was the only one left who had not responded yet. What did she want to do after the war? If she even lived. Listening to her team give their answers had been cathartic, and they all sounded like good options to spend their days after surviving annihilation, but she was unsure of what she wanted. 

That almost frightened her more than the Reapers.

Wren cleared her throat slightly, and answered anyways, “I… don’t know.” She had been trying for vague but mostly it just came out as sad.

Telera must have decided that was a good place to stop for the evening because she stood and stretched. “We should all get some rest,” she said, giving a sad smile. She started to move to pick up her plate but Wren stopped her.

“It’s alright, leave it,” she stated, shooing her hands away. “I’ll get everything.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Maala said, tilting her head to the side in what Wren perceived as sympathetic. 

Wren attempted at a warm smile but it felt more like a grimace when she responded, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got to finish up my sitrep for Combes anyways before I head to bed so I’ve got some extra time. I’ll take care of everything.”

On a normal night, perhaps she would have received some objection. But after tonight’s conversation, everyone seemed to be content to leave it at that and respect her request. Telera squeezed Wren’s shoulder as she passed by, heading out of the mess hall.

She continued to sit until everyone had filed out. Well, everyone except Bardonis who continued to stare into his tea cup. Wren felt commiseration at his dejected expression, his mind clearly somewhere else. She said nothing though as she stood, and went about rounding up the few dishes that littered the mess hall table, taking them back over to the ship’s kitchenette. 

She turned the warm water on and began scrubbing away at the first dish. Not a few moments later, she was joined by the tall turian. He dumped the rest of his unfinished drink down the drain and spoke low, “I’ll help.” Wren thought about protesting, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue, and he looked just as melancholy as she felt. So, she let him, handing him the first clean dish to dry off.

The worked quietly, the only noises to be heard were the ambient sounds of the ship and the stream of water coming from the faucet. Wren glanced at Bardonis as she handed him another dish. She frowned at the wet splotches that covered his gloves, and was too curious to not ask about it.

“Why are you always wearing your gloves?” she inquired.

Bardonis looked at her quizzically, like the answer was obvious, “Most turians do. It’s a cultural thing.”

“Oh,” she said, rinsing a cup under clean water. “Well, what’s it mean?”

“You don’t know?” he asked.

Wren rolled her eyes faintly before answering, “No, Bard. That’s why I’m asking.”

He hummed amusedly at her tone. “It’s mostly a sign of respect. There are really only two circumstances that a turian takes their gloves off. One of them is to indicate that they’re looking for a fight,” he explained. “What’s that saying you humans have? ‘Throwing the armlet’?”

Wren laughed. “Gauntlet,” she corrected, “’throwing the gauntlet’.”

“Ah, yes, that,” he replied. “Pretty much the same thing.”

She vaguely remembered how he had taken his gloves off during their fight in the cargo hold but she decided not to bring it up. A pause went by and she waited for him to continue. When he did not, she said, “And the second one?”

“What?”

“You said there were two circumstances. What’s the other one?” she asked.

“Oh. Uh- well…” he stammered for a moment and Wren did a double take at his stuttering. His mandibles fluttered against his face nervously. Wait a second. This was new. _Is he… embarrassed?_ She was struck but his sudden moment of awkwardness. So much so, that she turned the water off and faced him. Leaning against the counter, she felt a wry grin creeping onto her face as he failed to find words to explain it. Turians didn’t blush but Bardonis’s tell was when he would reach a hand up and rub the back of his neck. Which was what he was doing now. 

“Well,” she said, grinning, “spit it out.”

He rolled his eyes at her, a gesture he’d picked up from her and Telera. “The second circumstance would be when you’re with someone who you’re… intimate or close with. Normally a significant other, but it can also be around a person you consider to be family.”

“That’s it?” Wren asked, slightly disappointed.

He looked at her incredulously, “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

She shrugged, turning the water back on, “That’s not nearly as crude as I thought it was going to be. Strange maybe, but not scandalous.”

Bardonis chuckled, “Yeah, well, you’re not a turian. Besides, humans do strange shit too.”

Wren snorted, “Like what?”

“Kissing,” he stated.

She let out a full blown laugh at that. “You’re telling me you’ve never kissed anyone?”

Bardonis shuddered theatrically and did his best to hold back a smile, “No way. You’re liable to catch something doing that.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic. Asari kiss too, you know,” Wren laughed. Shaking her head, she said, “Unbelievable. You fight Reapers day in and day out and you’re afraid of cooties?”

“Completely justified,” he replied, doing his best to sound matter of fact even as his eyes glittered with mirth, “Reapers don’t try to stick their tongue in my mouth.”

“They might, if you asked really politely,” Wren teased, handing him the final dish. He laughed as she rinsed the last of the soap off of her hands and toweled them dry. The light-heartedness hung in the air a moment longer and Wren took a glance at Bardonis. His mandibles were no longer held tight against his face and while the pain hadn’t necessarily left his eyes, it had been lessened.

_Small successes._

Bardonis cleared his throat, “I should try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Wren agreed. The corners of her mouth pulled up faintly in a smile and she leaned back against the counter, “Thanks for helping.”

“Anytime,” he replied. His long legs began to lead him towards the crew quarters before he stopped and turned back around. 

“Major?”

Her eyebrows raised curiously, “Yeah?”

Bardonis’s mouth opened slightly and there was a pause before he continued, “Don’t stay up too late.”

Her expression softened and she gave another small smile. “I won’t.”

…

It was a beautiful day out. The wheat fields swayed lethargically in the warm breeze, a golden ocean flowing along the rolling hills. White capped mountains stood proudly in the distance, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The balmy sun kissed Wren’s face, causing a smile to spread wide as she closed her eyes and craned her neck up at it, drinking in as much of the warmth as she could.

“Working hard or hardly working, Major?” Cortez asked, a grin in his voice.

Wren chuckled but continued her sun bathing, “Now Lieutenant, what’s the point in this lovely weather if we don’t take a little time to enjoy it?” She turned and opened one eye, regarding him teasingly, “Stop and smell the roses, Cortez.”

Howett, an Alliance ensign with blonde hair and a penchant for running his mouth pipped up, “Don’t worry, Major. You just lay back and let us do all of the work.”

“You got it, Howie,” she said, knowing the nickname annoyed him.

She could practically hear his eyes rolling when he asked, “Should I get you a lemonade to go with the vacation you’re currently taking?”

“Only if you put an umbrella in it,” she replied. 

“Noted,” he mentioned dryly. 

Cortez laughed, “Aren’t you guys supposed to be protecting everyone while we build?”

Wren gave a long suffering sigh, but turned her attention away from the sun anyways. She brushed some imaginary dust off of her shoulder and smiled, “The only thing you need protection from, Lieutenant, is Howett’s shitty jokes.”

“Ouch,” Cortez stated.

“Now that’s just hurtful,” Howett said, giving a wry smile.

Ferris Fields wasn’t the smallest colony she’d ever been stationed at, that honor went to Sanctum, but it definitely felt like it as they sat in the practically empty field. They had spent the past few days flying to a nearby station a few miles south to oversee construction. Every morning, a couple dozen of them took a few shuttles to the remote posting and every evening they would fly back. 

The weather was usually nice, it reminded her of Earth. And the company was welcomed since they weren’t exactly doing the most exciting of things. For the most part, Wren enjoyed the last ten months she’d spent here. The colonists did their best to accommodate the Alliance soldiers and she had made friends amongst the people stationed here.

Montgomery, another ensign and one of the few women who had been posted on Ferris Fields spoke up, “Better make yourself look useful, Major.” She nodded towards an approaching shuttle and gave Wren a wink, “Looks like the cavalry has arrived.”

She straightened as the thrusters slowed it to a halt a few yards away. The shuttle landed, the door opening as it did. Captain Combes stepped off, glancing around the remote station. He caught sight of Wren and she donned a serious expression as he approached.

“Major,” he addressed her. “How is everything?”

“Pretty good, sir,” she said. She cleared her throat slightly and gestured around, attempting her hardest to keep the mirth out of her voice, “Just keeping everyone in line, ya know?” Her reply earned laughter from Montgomery and Cortez, and an unceremonious snort from Howett.

“Uh huh,” Combes said, with no small amount of sarcasm at her exaggerated wink to all of them. “Well keep up the outstanding work.”

She saluted, “Aye, aye sir.”

Combes shook his head and turned towards Cortez, “Give me the rundown, Lieutenant. What’s the status on those comm buoys and construction here?”

Cortez went into a lengthy and technical explanation that Wren tuned out, deciding it didn’t pertain to her. She turned her back towards them and took in the beautiful scenery once more. The sun was high in the sky and the soft swishing of the wheat fields was peaceful. It was the picture of serenity.

A flash in the atmosphere caught her attention and she looked up, shielding her eyes from the bright light of the sun. Something was coming down towards the planet. “Captain,” she interjected casually over Cortez, “were we expecting any shipments today?”

“No,” he said suspiciously, looking up at the approaching entity, “we weren’t.”

As it got closer, she got a better look at it and realized it was no ship she had ever seen before. It was long and almost organic in nature. Built from what looked like a combination of massive asteroids and some unknown technology, she felt panic rising in her chest staring up at the unidentified vessel. It rushed down towards the ground at a fearsome speed, getting larger and larger as it did so.

“What the fuck is that?” Howett said over the murmuring that passed through the small crowd of workers.

Before anyone could respond, the ship made contact with the planet. The rumble could be heard from miles away. Trees in the distance creaked and groaned and suddenly a blast of wind sent many of them off of their feet. 

When the dust settled, Combes responded to the questions everyone was wondering, his voice unsteady. “It’s the Collectors.”

Wren’s eyes widened in fear as she glanced back at the immense vessel. The ship towered over them, bigger than any skyscraper she’d ever seen. She pushed herself back up to her feet. It was just north of them, and she couldn’t squash her panic as she spoke, “It’s at the colony. It’s at Ferris Fields!”

Montgomery shouldered her rifle, “We have to go back. We have to help!”

“No!” Combes shouted, his brows pulling together.

“What?” Howett questioned. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing! Our crew is there, the civilians! We have to help somehow?!” His voice was rising desperately, his eyes manic as they shifted between the Captain and the Collector ship.

“We’re not just going to sit here and do nothing. Get everyone on the shuttles, right now,” Combes commanded, bringing his rifle up as he scanned the trees to the north.

Wren took a step towards him, “Captain-“

“-That’s an order.”

She stopped, stunned. He spoke up again, quieter this time, “There’s nothing we can do for them.”

She almost didn’t listen. Technically, she didn’t have to take orders from him. She outranked him. However, his eyes were stern, and his experience as an Alliance soldier was showing through now more than ever. Combes never had been one to throw forces at a problem. He didn’t consider numbers to be the solution. Neither did she. His expression was a mixture of pleading for her cooperation, and daring her to question his judgement. But he was right. There was nothing a group of twenty-some civilians and a hand full of Alliance soldiers could do to stop the Collectors.

“Get everyone in the shuttles,” she said, addressing the others, but not breaking eye contact with Combes.

“Cowards,” Howett spat. Wren looked to see his eyes filled with rage. He wanted to argue, she could tell he did, but Montgomery, who was glaring at her as well, put her hand on his shoulder to hold him back. He turned, shoving past her and began to round up the rest of the people, ushering them towards the shuttles.

Wren noticed a panicked Cortez standing apart from the rest of them, ignoring the exchange that had just happened. He sounded terrified as he shouted into his short-range comms, “Run- Get out of there! You can make it!”

She knew his husband Robert was at Ferris Fields.

She rushed over to him, grabbing his arm, “Lieutenant, we have to go.” He attempted to shake her off, listening desperately to the other end of the call. “Cortez! Now!” she tried again.

“No, don’t-“ he said as she pulled him along, using her weight to toss him into one of the shuttles. She glanced around, checking to make sure everyone had made it onto a ship. Wren was about to board herself when an explosion sounded and she suddenly found herself on her back.

_Wait._

She was dizzy, and her eyes blinked away as much of the confusion as they could. Gazing up into the atmosphere, she watched as dark clouds rolled through a gray sky. Her ears were ringing and her head felt like it was splitting in two.

_What happened to the sun?_

She rolled to her side and was about to try sitting up but gasped when she came face to face with a dead Montgomery. Half of the woman’s jaw was missing and blood streaked down her face. Wren scrambled away, only to find her hands and feet slipping against the mud. But the color was wrong. There was too much red.

_This isn’t right._

Her head whirled around to look at her surroundings. Blood soaked the ground and the couple of shuttles that had been there were ablaze, the fires burning hot. Black clouds above rolled menacingly and the once golden sea of wheat now sat trampled. The few stalks that rose out of the ground hung limp and dead. Bodies were strewn around her and she could feel her breath getting shorter and shorter.

_This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen._

Cortez, Howett, Combes. They all lay lifeless and bloodied. Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest and she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs as her eyes wildly surveyed the gore.

“Get up, Major,” a familiar voice said. She couldn’t place it though, and when she looked in the direction it had come from, her fear only doubled. Standing next to her wasn’t anyone she knew, but a Collector. Its four vapid eyes watched her and she struggled to clamber away from it. But she slipped and it reached for her. Its long hand latched onto one of her arms and she yelped in terror.

Dread filled her as she attempted in vain to break free from its grasp. It only held on tighter and she could feel something wet running down her cheeks. She was hyperventilating and hysterical and she couldn’t escape it.

_Gun! You have a gun!_

Wren gasped at the realization and she lifted a pistol from her side. It felt heavy in her hand, and it almost slipped from her grip, but she held onto it. She aimed towards the creature and fired.

The shot startled her though and the gun fell from her hand, clattering onto the ground. No, wait… the floor? She was no longer sitting in a field of blood. She was in a bed, on a ship.

And she was no longer staring into the four colorless sockets of a Collector.

She was looking at two pale amber eyes and white colony markings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry, huge writer's block on this one. I don't know why I couldn't get these scenes into writing as easily but it took forever so I apologize for that. Anyways, let me know what you think, and as always, thank you again for stickin' with me :)


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